Body Breakdown
by Contained Within A Box
Summary: Winry realizes she can no longer help Edward who is spiraling downwards after Al's death. So she contacts someone who can supervise him but not give into his emotions nor let Edward slip through the cracks. Roy. Parental!Roy
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Body Breakdown**

**Pairings: None. This is Parental!RoyEd and Sisterly!WinryEd.**

**Summary: Winry realizes that she can no longer help Edward who is spiraling downwards after Al's death. So she contacts someone who can supervise him but not give into his emotions and let Ed slip through the cracks. Roy. Can he help at all or is Edward hopeless? No pairings.**

**Warning: Self-injury**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.**

**This chapter is mostly Winry and Edward. Next chapter, I promise you, will be Ed and Roy. That is what this story is based on after all but I can't leave Winry out!**

IIIII

_Chapter One: Winry's Decision_

IIIII

_In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on - Robert Frost_

IIIII

There is only so much that the human mind can tolerate. There is a line between madness and sanity that many do not cross. Edward had never looked back ever since the day that he and his brother had burned their old home down, walking away with only memories to guide them. The search for the Philosopher's Stone was grueling and Edward always faced it with a brave mask to try and terrorize his enemies into believing that he was the strong, raucous alchemist most thought him to be.

In actuality Edward Elric was a fragile, tortured teenager who was a hair away from crossing the line between lucidity and insanity.

When he thought that he could have normality, have a chance to be genuinely happy with his younger brother in tow, was not cracked but shattered. It fell apart in the cruelest way.

"RIP, Alphonse Elric. RIP, Alphonse Elric . . ."

No matter how many times that mantra was spoken Edward did not want to believe it. His subconscious wanted him to remain blind to the fact that his brother was not a soul, or person, any longer and he resorted to withdrawing from everyone he had ever known into a cramped apartment.

The floor was littered with debris from him punching the walls, leaving diversified holes that varied from size on how upset he was at the moment. There were books flung across the room and the only accessory was a single couch to the far left of the living room where he slept. Edward was not managing daily tasks well as though he were too much of a weight to carry to the kitchen and back to get food. Even when Ed did summon up the strength and will to go take a shower he left it either so cold that he shivered or so hot that the touch of the water made him flinch. That was only the beginning of Edward's abuse he perpetrated on himself day after day.

There appeared to be no savior that could touch his depression. Monthly Winry would come by bringing him delicious food, replacing the old comestibles that were defiled with flecks of mold all over them, and tried to talk Edward into getting help. This either ended up with him dismissing her, or when she really pushed it, his shouting at her about how she did not understand. Of course she did, because she missed Alphonse too, but Winry exclaimed she refused to see another one of her best friend's die, especially when he is doing it right in front of her.

Another month passed and Winry was reluctant to return. Edward was on the brink of self-destruction and there was nothing that she could do. She had her own life to live back in Resembool, not in Central, and the cost of making a monthly trip plus buying him food was enough to make any time the last time. Winry never did tell him about her newfound love, with a handsome farmer named Carlson, because she knew that it could be a heavy blow to him. She did not have a way of telling if Edward was romantically interested in her or not but she did not want to take that chance.

Gathering the courage she opened the door saying, "Edward it's me. Winry. I'm here again."

She stepped into the one bedroom, one kitchen apartment with a look of hardly contained disgust. There were miscellaneous things across the floor, mostly consisting of books and papers with scribbles on them, and Edward was standing at the window looking outside to all of the innocent bystanders that knew nothing of his suffering.

"Ed?" She called out softly.

Ed looked over a shoulder for a moment than back out the window. "I saw a girl with a box of kittens for free last week."

Winry's heart seemed to crack open and she found it hard to say anything. Of course she knew what he meant - Al always had a huge heart, especially when it came to those furry little creatures. She did have warm memories of Al always thinking that when he would own a cat he would name it after a month. He always said that Autumn was his first pick, with June being a very close second.

"I got one," He said. "After all that time I said I never wanted a pet … _now_ I get it. How weird is that?"

"Um . . . are you sure you want a cat? I don't know if he can live in here," Winry put it as gently as she could.

Edward turned around looking unfazed. He had heard so many times before that the place was a pigsty, and there was no denying that, so it didn't matter if she said it nicely or not.

"I know. I was going to clean up today but . . . I just don't feel like it."

"Do you have any cat food or litter?" Winry asked.

"Yeah. I had to go outside for the cat anyway so I figured that I should do it while I felt half-way decent," Edward replied. He looked towards the kitchen and shouted, "Autumn, come here!"

A pudgy cat trotted out over the mess towards it's new owner. He was all black except for with dots of white spread across his face. Winry smiled lightly. "It knows you already? How sweet."

"After a week of being called Autumn over and over I would know my name to." Edward bent down and scratched the kitten under it's chin.

Winry made her way into the kitchen and started sorting out food. The good, the almost expired, and the downright disgusting is what she would categorize each as. She knew that Edward depended on her, knowing that she would come month after month just to help him, and she wished that she could continue but after seven months she was growing tired. At first she thought that he would get better as time rolled on but his grief over loosing Alphonse for good while trying to bring his body back was obviously too much for him to handle.

Winry wasn't sure if she could do it anymore. It broke her heart to see Edward in such a condition. Without Alphonse there to help him he was so lost. It had always been Al that set him straight when he was losing control or made him smile when all hope seemed defeated. After Trisha had died Ed had depended on Al to help him but now he had no immediate family, just a few very close friends left.

After cleaning out the refrigerator and putting the new groceries in she cleaned off the counter that was littered with empty water bottles and washed the few dishes he owned so he wouldn't feel overwhelmed when wanting to make something right away. Edward was devoid of motivation and she wasn't sure what would make him give up so easily. Even washing a dish would be an excuse for him to not eat. Did he think that he didn't deserve to be happy since it was 'his fault' that his brother died? Did he think that he had no right to live decently?

She joined Edward in the living room and asked, "Do you have any laundry to be done? I can go outside and do it for you."

"Oh. Sure," He said tonelessly. He was sitting on the couch petting Autumn who was purring on his lap. Ed gestured over to the pile of clothes in a small hamper.

Winry wanted to plug her nose but didn't. She was about to take it out when she noticed how filthy Edward looked in his clothes.

"Ed, give me your jacket and shirt. I'll do them for you."

Ed shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You know you're not. You've probably been sleeping and living in those clothes for the past two weeks," Winry said with frustration clear in her face. "Hand over the jacket and shirt."

"I said I'm fine. Just leave it at that."

_He's so used to me leaving things alone_, She thought to herself. _Well not anymore._

"I'm not going to. Not this time," Winry said. She set the hamper of clothes by the door and walked to her friend, determination surging from within.

"Winry, I'm fine."

"That sounds artificial. How many times have you repeated it in these last few months? You've lied every single time." Winry held out her hand and added, "Now hand over your jacket and shirt and I'll go do your laundry. I'm not going to go to Resembool knowing that you're wearing dirty clothes."

"I'll change when the clothes are washed," Ed bargained.

"What is so wrong that you can't do it now?"

"Leave it alone will ya'?" Edward snapped back. "You came on the wrong day."

"I wish that you would do something to help yourself," Winry coveted aloud.

"Wish is a word meant for the naive. I don't use it because I know better than to wish anything to appear or disappear."

"Maybe I use the word wish because that's all it is. A wish. Something that will never come to light," sorrowfully Winry countered. She saw the coldness in his eyes and she knew that she was not reaching him. "Do you think you deserve _this_-" She used her hands to indicate around the room "-for the rest of your life? If you do I swear that I'll smack you until you come to your senses!"

"Go ahead. Do it," Edward said sounding detached from his so called senses. "Nothing gets to me anymore."

"Well maybe it should! Maybe you should let it get you so you can realize how bad you're getting!" She retorted. The anger in her voice was not one of true rage, but one where her concern had simmered so long that she could not help but yell it so he would pay undivided attention. "You don't do anything anymore. Where is the Edward that used to travel with a goal? Where is the Edward who would tell others to quit whining and deal with their lives because it is possible to move forward? What happened to that spunk you used to have?"

Edward remained silent but did not break eye contact. He was not sure what to answer those questions with because he himself did not know where that part of him had ventured off to. Maybe that part had died along with his brother and would never return. Just like Al never could.

"I just want my friend back!"

Tears fell and soaked the papers she was standing on. Edward's eyes glimmered for a moment and he looked away, thoughts raking at his brain.

"How can I move forward? Al is gone."

"I know but you can't let grief dictate your life."

"You don't understand."

"Al was my best friend too!" Winry said, astonished that he would even say something so demeaning to her. Although she could tell he hadn't meant it to hurt her it did wound her. "He was like my little brother. I _loved_ him . . ." She stopped for a moment considering her next words carefully. "And . . . you're like my brother, too, Ed, and I love you too much to let you go like this."

Edward eyes flickered for a moment up to her as though trying to see if she meant it or not. Was he really that untrusting to think she would say that for nothing?

He answered her heartfelt words with melancholy ones. "But I failed him."

"You failed? Tell me how you failed."

Edward gave her an odd look as though she said the grass was orange instead of green. "I couldn't bring him back. He died after all of those years stuck as a soul in a suit of armor! How can I say I didn't fail him?"

"You never gave up when things seemed hopeless. You joined the military just on the chance they could help you find the Philosopher's Stone. You traveled on the slightest hint of where it was, faced countless dangerous situations, all the while taking care of yourself and Al from age twelve! You protected him and yourself from things you shouldn't have gone through but you did. All for him."

"But-"

"Edward, can't you see that you tried your hardest? Even if you didn't have the power to bring him back that wasn't your fault. Atleast you _tried_."

Winry searched his golden eyes for any hint of if he was coming out of his shell. Anything would be an improvement to her. After seven months of tormenting herself about being sensitive with him she had said what she always wanted to say, but it wasn't making a difference, was it? She couldn't help him.

It wasn't his indifference that hurt. It was that she could not aid him that struck her the hardest.

Winry took a couple steps back and wiped at her eyes. "I'll . . . go and do the laundry."

Edward nodded and continued to stroke Autumn. His purring was the only sound filling the room after Winry had slammed the door. Ed thought he had heard her sobbing as she closed it but he had trained himself to slip away, no longer alert of the things around him, so he could be at peace without his conscious ripping his soul apart.

He couldn't even get the guts to assure her that he would be all right because he wasn't quite sure about his continuing existence either.

IIIII

The two brothers had always been by eachother's side and didn't have a second thought of giving up their own life to save one another. Edward had known that Al could very well die in the transmutation to bring back his body, and he could have met his demise as well, but both of them had assured eachother that no matter what that their bond was as strong as ever.

Winry couldn't help but cry for Ed, once again, since he had not allowed himself to. The weight of his grief was too much for her to endure any longer. Of course she had to do something for him but what? Send him to an mental institution? That wouldn't do him any good! Edward had discipline that he learned in the military but following an hour by hour schedule, and being treated as though he were broken, was not going to help him. It would only allow him to continue as though there was no hope - that he couldn't do anything on his own without supervision.

What else was there?

Winry didn't return back into the apartment complex. She stayed outside in the warm sun, consumed by her thoughts and worries. Edward had only turned seventeen, so atleast an adult could force him into therapy, because if he became of age he could only be forced if he was seen as a danger to himself or someone else. A disturbing thought came into her mind: Was Ed suicidal?

She shook her head. He wouldn't dare do that. He would dare leave her, Pinako, and everyone behind.

Winry hung up the clothes after she was done washing them. It would take a while for them to dry so she returned to Ed's apartment to see if she could coerce him to get some sort of help.

IIIII

Instead of coercing him she spent the whole time recalling memories of Al, or from their childhood they had shared together, and for the first time Edward had smirked at the thought of a four year old Al eating his birthday cake with his bare hands. Winry was surprised to see how old memories could bring out the best in them both.

Still it was undeniable the weight of Edward's depression. He seemed quite disconnected and would not make eye contact for all of the time that they talked. Although she tried to get her baby blue's to connect with his, he would always look away, as though afraid to read what her eyes would tell him.

After an hour and a half she went outside and retrieved all of the clothes from the clothesline and brought them back. Then she brought up the bargain of Edward changing his clothes and she watched, in confusion, as the color drained away from his face.

"I'll do it when you leave."

"Oh what are you? Four? I know I'm a girl but I've seen you in your boxers more times than any other woman. Lucky me, huh?" She said with a smile, trying to joke with him.

Edward wasn't having it. He just stared at his feet from where he sat. Winry had cleared an area for them to sit that was clean and he seemed to gravitate towards the mess since he was sitting on a pile of books.

"I only want to know that you're going to do it. I'm not trying to invade your privacy. Just that now you have a tendency not to do anything at all without someone pushing you," Winry said. "Which reminds me, you need a haircut."

Edward pulled his braid, that was down past the middle of his back instead of his shoulder blades, and agreed, "I guess you're right."

"I usually am. Do you have any scissors around?"

"I have a pair in one of the kitchen drawers."

After finding them in an empty drawer where the silverware used to be she held onto the braid and asked, "How short do you want it?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Well in that case I'll give you a crew cut."

"Fine, fine. Just to where it used to be."

With one snip the long golden braid was cut down to where it always had been, down to his shoulderblades. Winry threw the rest of the hair into a half-empty garbage bag not to far away and used her fingers to draw out the rest of the hair into a flow of golden locks. She cut away any split ends and considered it a job well done and really needed.

"All done. How do you feel?"

"Eh." He shrugged. "But thanks."

"You're welcome," She said putting the scissors on the floor. "Now change."

"Winry, don't."

_He sounds so . . . frail. The Ed I knew never sounded like that unless he was pushed into a corner._

"What is wrong with you?" Winry asked, a confused and concerned tone with an edge of panic mixed.

"You're better off not worrying about it."

"Worrying about what? Atleast give me a chance to see if it's a good reason to worry or not!" Winry demanded. Her patience with his habit of remaining so filthy, and not taking proper care of himself, was becoming scarce.

Edward ran his automail fingers through his hair. It was hard to do so since it had not been brushed in a while. That was when Winry went searching for a brush, or a comb, leaving her friend to brood on the subject whether to tell her or not. Surely she would be upset but how much more frantic could she get? Would she abandon him for good? Or would she think he was crazy?

After a five minute search she found one under the sink, oddly, and than went to the task of getting the knots out of Ed's hair. The teen didn't even grunt when she hit a particularly hard spot and had to tear some of his hair from the roots to get it unstuck. There was an eerie silence filling that time where both of them were searching their minds for the right words to say. Neither were aware that the other was planning to reveal a secret.

Winry started to talk, figuring that if she told him something personal maybe he would be at ease about sharing. It was as though she were trying to convince a child to give up his favorite toy.

"Ed . . . I don't know how to say this but I'm not sure if I can come here every month anymore. My earnings can't allow it and, well, I've found someone special who's asked me to marry him."

Edward's head turned around sharply, looking as though he were the older brother protecting his younger sister, and asked, "Who is it?"

"His name is Carlson. He's a farmer and we've been dating for almost a year now."

"I've never heard of him," said Ed.

"Before Al you both weren't too involved in my life. I never had the time to tell you guys. Besides, I wasn't sure if you had feelings for me and I didn't want to hurt you . . ." She admitted.

"It's not like that," Edward replied calming her down a notch. "I just . . ."

"You just what?"

"Nevermind." He turned back around and Winry was disappointed that he was ignoring his own feelings. His leg started to shake up and down as if he were nervous.

Although she wasn't ask Winry continued to talk about him. "He's smart, hard-working, and could have had any girl he wanted. I consider myself lucky to have won his heart."

"Good for you," Edward congratulated but it didn't have any well-wishing manner in it.

Winry sighed audibly. "Back to my original point: I don't know if I can come here every month. I've said yes to Carlson and we're going to plan our wedding. When we set a date you're definitely invited."

Maybe the old Edward would have joked "I'll go but don't make me one of the bridesmaids" but the Edward that was in front of her just nodded his head mindlessly. He was gripping at his flesh arm squeezing it roughly and flinched everytime he did so. Winry noticed that little detail and became more concerned what was underneath his clothing. How could she get him out of it though? She couldn't overpower him.

"Ed, I know you probably don't feel like it, but change into some fresh clothes for me."

"Fine! I will! Just don't look at me," Edward snapped back. He stood up and dug out a black T-shirt and his old black pants. He looked at Winry expectantly but she didn't budge.

"I want to see what you're fussing about."

"Don't push it."

"You _need_ to be pushed."

"What are you so concerned about? I'm alive aren't I? What else do you want?"

"Being alive and living a life are different and you know it!" Winry snapped vehemently. "If you call this living than you're worse off than I thought."

"Don't make this any harder than it is," He grinded out behind clenched teeth.

Winry walked towards him and hit him on his flesh arm, not too hard, but enough to snap his arm away and gasp as the pain that flared from it. Her disastrous theory was correct, wasn't it?

"Lift up your sleeve. I want to see your arm."

"I said don't push-"

She walked towards him but he did not back up. His eyes shimmered with a mix of anger and fear. "Edward, let me help you."

"I don't want any of your help. Now get out and go back to your fiancé who actually wants you around, because I don't. You're being a complete annoyance! Shutup and leave me alone!" He sneered before he could think of the gravity of what he said.

Winry stopped, unsure of what to say in reply. What could she say to that? She wanted to shoot an insult right back at him but, deep down, she knew that he didn't mean a word of it. It was just the depression talking. Except it didn't make it less painful to hear. After all she had done for him those three sentences had shattered what little hope she had of saving him from himself. It was sad to admit that she, Winry Rockbell, could not help her friend that she had known all of her life.

With tears in her blue eyes she said stiffly, "All right Ed. I guess this will be the last time I come here."

Edward didn't say a word. Inside he knew that he wanted her to stay, since she was the only one who dared to come around anymore, but he refused to have her help him. He was fine.

_You're such a liar_, he chided himself._ You know you're a wreck but just don't want to burden anyone else. What a sorry bastard you are._

"I'll always be in Resembool and you know my number so when you feel like apologizing, or want me to help you, you can call."

Just like that Winry was out of his life and Edward hadn't thought it was possible to feel any more empty inside but he had managed to exceed that boundary. He didn't even reach down to pet Autumn, who was rubbing on his leg after witnessing the argument, and he went over to the couch with his head in his hands wondering what the hell was so wrong with him that he yelled at her like that. After all Winry only wanted to help.

Edward pulled up his sleeve without anyone to witness the blue, yellow, red, and purple bruises that covered his arm. There was hardly an inch of skin left untouched from his own brutality. He began to squeeze his arm to push away the emotions he felt inside, into the corner, like he never felt a thing.

IIIII

Before her train left in fifteen minutes she found herself in front of a phone, with a piece of paper clutched in her nervous hand, and the other gripping the handle of the phone. Now if only she had the courage to dial . . .

Winry was reluctant at first, wondering if she should just visit him, but he had been promoted to Brigadier General! It could take a while to reach him and she had no idea if he was even in Central. That would mean staying another night, also, and she only had fare for the train ride back to Resembool. If she really wanted to talk to him she would have to call his office number that she had taken from Ed when looking for the comb.

Roy Mustang had to help Ed. Edward needed a strong, healthy environment and someone who could be sympathetic but would not baby him. Winry couldn't do it - she was too emotionally invested in Edward. She could not look from a neutral perspective to make the best decisions for him. Hopefully he would help but what if he refused?

_I'll cross that bridge when I come to it_, Winry thought determined to help or atleast say she tried.

Before dialing the number she thought about how to state her case. Edward needed help, although he didn't want it; and Roy probably would not want to deal with a teenager in deep denial, and with a severe depression on top of that. Would Roy want to deal with it?

She dialed the number before she could talk herself out of it. _Do it for Ed_, she told herself. _He needs you._

On the second ring she heard, "Brigadier General Mustang speaking."

For a moment she was silenced. Where to start? Before he took her silence as a sign to hang up she spoke. "Um, Brigadier General Mustang, sir, this is Edward Elric's friend Winry. I really need to talk to you about him. That is if you have the time, I hope you do."

"That bad huh?"

"Yes. I was hoping you could help."

"Go on."

Winry refused to be unnerved by his sound of objectivity. Atleast he hadn't hung up! "I'm worried about him. He hardly eats, his apartment is a mess, and although I've tried I can't get through to him. He thinks he's fine."

"And you think I could do better?" Roy asked, ringing of disbelief.

"I know that you may not get along too well sometimes but Ed does trust you," Winry explained her thinking. "I think you're the only strong, positive male figure still in his life. He needs structure. He needs guidance. I think you can provide that."

"I have a lot of work to do, I hope you realize that," Roy told her.

"Yes, I understand that. I wouldn't be calling you for help though unless Ed truly needed it. I can't give him the support he needs. He knows that I'll cave in eventually."

"So basically you want someone to kick his ass into gear? I've done that for years. I can do it again, I guess."

"Really? Thank you!" Winry thanked him happily.

"I'll do what I can but I'd like to know more about his situation. How bad of is he? He and Al were very close, so I'm sure he is still very devastated," Roy inquired.

"More than devastated. I think he's lost his love for life," Winry replied sadly.

"FullMetal lived for Al, really, seeing as his only goal was to return his body to him. I can understand that he must feel lost," Roy said. "I don't want to ask but do you believe that he is suicidal? I'll call in a professional to help before I do because I can't handle that alone."

"I don't think he is, but without someone there he'll only spiral down."

"Why can't you help him?" Roy asked more out of curiosity than needing to know.

"I've been trying for seven months." Winry hated to admit that she could not assist her friend but she kept going. "I've come every month with new food, done his laundry, talked to him. I just can't do it anymore. I've got a life in Resembool and as much as I'd like to have him come back with me I have my fiancé to worry about. It wouldn't be fair to him if I brought another man into the home, who I'd have to devote a lot of my attention to."

"You understand that I can't baby-sit him. I can't force him to accept my help either," Roy said although reluctantly. The man had known FullMetal for five years, the little guy had been through hell and back, and he would be damned if the one person he who defeated Ed was himself. "But I'll try my hardest."

Winry held back tears of appreciation. "Thank you. I was worried that you would say no."

"I don't think I could say no. FullMetal was a good asset to my team even if he was a hellion, and I haven't protected all of his secrets for him to just quit now. Besides I don't think any of my subordinates would ever speak to me again if I refused."

After giving Roy Mustang the address to Ed's apartment, which was placed conveniently in the north of Central just as Roy was, Winry said, "I do have to leave. My train is boarding now."

"Alright. Bye."

When Winry hung up she wondered if she should have mentioned something about checking his arm but shook it away. Maybe Mustang could get Ed to see, maybe through some needed harsh words, that he couldn't continue to live how he was. Winry had hope, atleast, and boarded the train looking up into the sky asking Alphonse, wherever he was, to give his brother the courage to heal.

IIIII

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	2. Chapter 2

IIIII

_Chapter Two: Paralyzed_

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_... without darkness  
Nothing comes to birth,  
As without light  
Nothing flowers._

_- May Sarton_

IIIII

Roy Mustang, the next day after the call from the desperate friend of Edward, was considering how he would go about exactly initiating help. Did he need someone to listen? No, if that was all he needed, than Winry would have done just fine for him. He could give Ed the reality of his situation - if was as bad as Winry put it - easily enough. Hopefully he was not too bad off and Roy could have him feeling better within the month.

Except when he arrived at the apartment complex, which was known for it's often break-in's and troublemakers, he realized that it could take longer than one month.

_Why would FullMetal stay in such a place?_ Roy wondered to himself. He heard yelling from the second story and was nearly hit by a potted plant thrown out the window by an angry man as he made his way into the building. He was wise not to dress in his military clothes because he was getting strange looks as he walked down the hall towards apartment number 14. A man in a suit, not looking disheveled, with a confident look in his eye was quite the oddity in such a place.

Roy had arrived at seven in the morning. Of course he could not escape the paperwork that Hawkeye was pushing on him from a rebellion in Ultan. He would have two hours to convince FullMetal to accept his offer of help to get himself back onto his feet.

He knocked on the door at first but nobody answered. Not even a shout of "Come in!" was exclaimed. He continued knocking for another minute but it was still the same result of zilch.

"FullMetal, it's Mustang. Are you in there?" Roy said loud enough to go past the wooden door. While waiting he took out the piece of paper that had his address written on it just to make sure he was not knocking on the wrong door. Or even knocking at the wrong apartment complex.

"I'm coming in," Roy announced. He just hoped for the best.

That was when he realized Winry had not dramatized anything. Any clothes he owned were flung across the floor, which was barely visible under the amount of books, papers, and various things strewn everywhere. There was also a stench which made Roy want to plug his nose. He walked in trying his best not to step on something. He noticed the empty couch in the corner with a kitten sleeping on it. There were also feces - from the cat only - in the opposite corner in it's litter box. That was probably where the smell was coming from since no food was lying around.

_Daaamn. Look at all of the holes in the walls. I guess I should expect a lot of anger._

Roy peeked into the kitchen that appeared to be clean. Was he not eating at all? The thing looked as though he only stepped in it for water, which the empty bottles stuffed into a garbage can told him that it was most likely.

That meant there was no sign of Edward in either places so there was only one place left - the bathroom. Roy had not opened his ears enough to hear the retching going on but when he heard it, he became alarmed, and knocked on the door of the bathroom.

"FullMetal? Are you sick?" Roy asked.

The only answer was more vomiting.

Roy tried to open the door but it was locked. Damn it.

"It's me, Mustang. I want you to open this door and I can take you to a hospital if you're ill."

"I'm not-" Edward gasped for air "-sick."

"The vomiting makes it appear otherwise," Roy drawled.

The dark haired man could hardly hear it but with his ears strained he heard a whisper of, "It's the nightmares."

_Nightmares awful enough to make him vomit? I guess I'm stuck with more than I thought I was._

"I'm here to help you."

"You can't."

"Before you just assume that why don't you actually try?" Roy countered.

"What? Can _you_ bring someone back from the dead?"

"Of course I can't. No one can so you're going to have to deal with that first." Roy was silent for a moment waiting for an angry reply but he heard nothing. "FullMetal? Are you still with me?"

"I can't bring him back. I can't do it." The teenager sounded broken over the fact that he could not perform the taboo transmutation.

"It would be foolish to try," said Roy remaining calm. "I know you want to but you can't. You've already tried that when you were younger and failed. Don't trick yourself into thinking it will be different this time."

Edward remained silent from within the bathroom. Roy wondered, after a minute, what he was doing in there.

"I want you to come out of there."

"Winry sent you didn't she?"

Roy was about to answer yes but did not want the younger alchemist to believe he was doing this because he had promised to. "We'll discuss this when you get out of the bathroom. I want to make sure that you don't need medical attention."

"What is wrong with you people? I'm fine. I always have been. I'm just in a little rut."

"A _little_ rut? Is this coming from the boy who is scared to come out of the bathroom and face someone?"

"I'm not scared!" Edward shouted back.

_Atleast he has some fight in him. Time to push him some more and get him out of there_, Roy thought.

"You do have the little part right. Have you shrunken a few inches and don't want me to see? I do have some new midget jokes if you want to hear them."

"Colonel bastard!" Something hit the door with a loud _clang!_

"It's actually Brigadier General bastard now," corrected Mustang. "So tell me why you won't come out of the bathroom."

"I'm fine. Why don't you believe that?"

"Maybe because you aren't fine. You may not realize how depressed you are, it has been known to happen, and you're not going to get out of it alone. If you could you would have done it long ago."

Edward became silent, probably brooding over the fact that his ex-superior was telling him how depressed he was. Roy would have sat outside the door waiting for him but there was not a place to sit that didn't look uncomfortable.

"While you think about coming out I'll be cleaning your junk up off the floor. Except the cat shit, you can do that by yourself."

Roy did not hear a reply so he took the initiative, grabbing a garbage bag that was half-full, and started to stuff anything he thought was purposeless into the bag. He had not planned on playing maid but he could be quite the perfectionist when need be. His own house was always kept in order and he hated anything to be out of place. He started to stack the books next to the couch and paid the kitten some attention. The man thought it odd that after all of that preaching to Al that he could not have a cat that Ed chose to own one. He also folded Ed's clothes and laid them onto the couch.

After thirty minutes of quick work he had sorted the junk, the valuables, and the maybes from one another. He noticed that the floor needed a good scrubbing but he was not going to go that far. He told the still mute Edward that he was going to take the trash out and did just that. Three garbage bags went into the dumpster. Afterwards Mustang washed his hands in the sink and looked to see what was in the refrigerator. Even if Ed's stomach was weak he needed to eat something. Roy did help himself to a chicken sandwich and pulled out a container of grapes for the teenager.

Roy wasn't sure what to say to Ed. After seven months of not talking it was a little awkward to suddenly jump back into his life again. FullMetal could put two and two together to figure out that Winry asked Roy to do this, and he would likely resent the man for some time for that fact, but he could see them getting past that.

Now if only he could get him out of the damn bathroom.

"Ed you need to come out of there. I don't care if your legs are broken, crawl to the door and unlock it atleast."

"Why are you here?" Edward finally spoke for the first time in thirty minutes. "I know that Winry sent you but you didn't have to come."

"I'll tell you if you come out."

"If you tell me I will come out."

Roy sighed loudly. "You're being more difficult than you need to be. I know you're depressed but that doesn't mean you get to hide forever inside a bathroom that is undoubtedly rancid since you haven't flushed the toilet full of puke, I might add."

"Oh. Forgot." Then he heard the sound of the toilet flushing.

_Forgot? If I were sitting next to a bowl full of puke I'd flush it down even before I finished . . . he must be out of it._

"If Winry sent you I don't want you here."

"What if I said I came here of my own free will?" Roy asked.

"Hn. Yeah, right. You're just kind," sarcastically Ed replied. "You've come the day after Winry left, leaving me on my own? I don't think that's a coincidence."

"I hadn't known that you were still depressed, FullMetal, I thought you went to Resembool since I haven't heard from you. Anyway, maybe we can look into a counselor or something."

Edward snorted. "I don't need to talk to anyone. Especially some know-it-all counselor who wants to 'heal' me. I'm not going to heal. It just won't happen. Not this soon anyway."

"It's been seven months," reminded Roy. "It may not seem like a lot but it's time that you try to take a step forward. You can't continue blaming yourself over something that you couldn't control-"

"Don't you tell me that!" Edward interrupted, loudly and boldly. "_I_ controlled it and _I_ lost it! _I_ was the one that did the transmutation so _I_ was the one that screwed up. _I_ was the one that wanted to bring back our mother. If I hadn't been so stupid Al would be alive right now!"

"One, you should know that nobody has completed that taboo without severe consequences. You both knew how dangerous it was, and that means that Al knew that is was risky, and he took that risk. Even though you were the one who did the transmutation, and with the Philosopher's Stone, it would take great strain to have recovered his body. You_ are_ talented, FullMetal, but you _are not_ superhuman.

"Two, you both made a mistake trying to bring your mother back. I understand your intentions but do not make it seem as though Al was forced to do it-"

"Are you blaming it on him?" Edward growled.

"I'm saying that you _both_ made a mistake," Roy corrected him with great patience he did not know he possessed. "I think you've paid your dues."

"For bringing back a monster instead of my mother? For failing again? Yeah. Let me just run down to a church and go to confessional and everything will be fine, right? I'll have a happy little life here on my _own_," sneered Ed.

"So do you think that you have suffered enough? Or would you want to keep whipping yourself over and over again?" Roy questioned, a hard tone taking over. He wanted the blonde to realize that this was not the way to deal with loss but what could he say to make it right again? He sure as hell didn't know.

He heard a mutter of, "I'm just not good enough." It made Roy's frown deepened. He supposed that along with Ed's supposed happiness during those rough years of his life, his self-esteem also took a trip down the drain.

"Nobody is. Do you want me to repeat myself or do you understand the extremely difficult task of pulling of a successful human transmutation? Even with a soul and the Philosopher's Stone."

"I thought it would help!" Ed said sounding frustrated. After all of those years spent searching for the damn thing and it hadn't made a difference!

As though reading his mind he said, "I think it did make a difference. After all you're still alive."

"Yeah. Lucky me."

"There are many people who are dying who would give anything to stay alive," Roy said.

"So what's your point? I don't care about them. I don't care anymore, really."

"So, FullMetal, was Al really your only reason for caring?" Roy questioned.

"Don't even talk about Al!" An angry shout came from within the bathroom.

"But was he?"

"My only reason for caring?" Edward echoed. He considered the question for a moment and wondered, for some reason, if Al would have moved on so quickly if he was in Edward's place. Would he feel lost just as he was? Or would he be able to deal with pain and keep a steady pace forward?

Roy hadn't expected an answer. Nor had he expected to be getting so much out of Edward. Was the blonde comfortable talking to him?

Roy said with a demanding tone, "Would you come out of that bathroom? I'm tired of staring at the door."

"Get me my jacket and throw it in here and then I'll come out," Edward replied.

Roy retrieved said red jacket for him and tossed it into the bathroom. There was an oof! from it smacking Ed in the face. When he came out Roy finally got a good look at him.

The teen was, more or less, wasting away. He looked as though he had not eaten in days albeit being very little that he ate even when he did eat. Edward's hair was not in it's usual braid, just flowing down his shoulders, and he did not look up as he usually would have. Edward only looked down at the ground in a sort of slouch. His body language was telling Roy that he was anything but fine. Fright? Worry? A mix of all sort of heavy emotions came from Edward.

Roy handed the boy the small plastic cup of grapes and Edward just set it on the windowsill. Mustang had hoped that the boy would eat to take care of his concern about those habits of skipping all three meals of the day but it looked as though Edward was not about to let the Brigadier's mind rest.

"You can leave," Ed muttered and studied the floor that was relatively clean, although it would need a good mopping.

"I know I can. I just don't want to."

Edward shot a heated glance up to his used-to-be superior, than looked across the room. "So Winry really isn't coming back?"

"I suppose not," replied Roy. He leaned up against the wall, still looking at the boy with a strange curiousity. "She does have her own life."

"I know that!" He snapped.

"Maybe it's time for you to get one too."

"What do you want me to do? Just act as though I don't have any family?"

"By blood you don't," responded Roy curtly. "But there are a lot of people that care for you. You've made enemies over the years but you've made even more friends."

Edward finally looked up at the Brigadier, confusion blatant on his face. He appeared as though he wanted to say something but held it back. He shoved his hands in his pocket and kicked the dust up off the floor.

Roy had a feeling he knew what the teen wanted to ask. He answered the unasked question. "Yes, I am your friend."

Edward looked embarrassed and changed the subject. "Thank you though for cleaning. I never got around to doing it."

"You don't have any motivation anymore. Losing your brother was a big blow to your fortitude."

"You act as if you know what I'm feeling. Well you don't, so drop it," Edward hissed behind gritted teeth. Inside his pockets his fists clenched and he was about to shout when he felt something rub up against his leg. He looked down to see Autumn, who had probably sensed his owner upset, trying to comfort him by rubbing his head against Ed's calf. Ed reached down and scooped Autumn up.

Roy said, sounding agitated, "I do know about loss. I've been in the military a very long time and I know what it's like to lose someone close to you."

"We were more than close!" Edward snapped once again, a harsh edge in his voice. Autumn jumped out of his arms after hearing his owner use such a hard tone. "He was . . . was . . . ugh, don't get me started."

By instinct he grabbed his flesh arm and squeezed as hard as he could. He flinched, letting the pain flood his mind, but what he wanted to do was pound his arm until he could not stand another flare of pain. He wanted to crack his bones, he wanted to break his bones, he wanted to . . . but he couldn't. That would mean having to have a visit with the hospital where he was not going. Ed had spent enough time after trying to bring back Al, since his body was damaged from the effort.

Edward remembered when he had woken up, in a hazy dream-like state, and his first words had been "Where's Al?" since he had been so confident that he had brought his brother back. After all they had been through, every single adventure, and the hardships they endured it could not be fathomable to think that Al was gone. They still had too much to do. He wanted to see Al's smile once more and watch him blush whenever he was embarrassed. Edward remembered thinking that finally he would be able to hug his brother again . . .

_"I'm sorry, Edward, but he didn't make it," The nurse that had been attending to him said. "I was told that your brother died. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you . . ."_

_"What . . . what do you mean he's--you mean . . . ? No, I brought him back! I did it with my own two hands!"_

_"Please don't try to get up--"_

_"Shutup! Where's Al? Where is he!" Edward had shouted, his efforts to sit up and move shot down by the flaring pain enveloping his ribs. He dug the back of his head into the pillow and gritted his teeth. "He can't be gone . . . he can't be . . ."_

Edward almost jumped back when he saw a hand flying in his face. "What the hell?" He let out and jerked his head to look at Mustang, who had an odd look on his face.

"I called your name but you slipped away on me," Roy said. "And what were you doing to your arm?"

"I had an itch," He grumbled quickly than spoke up, sounding ticked, "How much longer are you going to stay? I'm tired of talking to you."

"So polite to your guests, aren't you?" Mustang drawled and started to walk towards the door. "I guess this is just the first of a series of visits I will make."

"What?!" Ed shouted making the man stop in his tracks. The blonde shook his head unsure of what to reply. Why was he doing this? Couldn't he just leave him alone? And what was with the whole 'acting kind-of-nice' thing? Instead he just added in a sneer, "I need to get a lock on my door."

"Let me know when you do. I'll make sure to get a copy of the key."

Mustang walked out, unfazed by a string of curses that Ed let slip out of his mouth in anger. He was not sure what to make of that visit - was the boy in a serious depression? Mustang only saw a glimpse of it from minute to minute, since the teen's aggression was top-notch, but sure enough it was there. Unfortunately.

_I should have said a series of very difficult, annoying, awkward visits that I will make because I kind of feel obligated and part of me kind of wants to_, he thought to himself as he made his way outside.

IIIII

There was nothing to stop him. Nobody to say that it was wrong of him to abuse his own body. Except, wasn't natural to be frightened of pain? To _not_ want to inflict pain on one's self? It was only common sense right?

Wrong. To Edward the pain brought relief. His auto-mail fist served well as a beating device as he brought it down hard onto his arm. He was careful to make sure that he did not punch so hard as to fracture or break his bones. Although he was positive that one day the simple punching would not bring him the same discharge as it did as he self-injured.

Some would call him crazy. Some would say he was a pitiable figure. Edward didn't care.

The thoughts of Al. The memories of their time spent together. It all hurt too much. If the combined forces of his mother and Al weren't enough to haunt him, the nightmares of failure and past horrors were there to taunt him, and he knew that he would be in the same position the next morning as he was that dawn. Hunched over the toilet bowl after his stomach created such an upset from his psychological difficulties that he could not keep it down. Most of it was stomach acid since he refused his body the delight of consuming food.

Edward yelped in pain as he hit a particularly sore spot. He grabbed his arm and let out an anguished sigh and titled over to lay out fully on the couch. He heard the mewing of Autumn but he dismissed it and laid there, letting the pain soothe the emotional feelings down underneath a brick wall, and he wondered how long it would stay there with that damn Mustang promising to keep coming over.

_What is his motive anyway? I was just his subordinate. Nothing special_, Edward thought angrily.

Then again he had to admit that it was nice to have someone, besides Winry, atleast act as if they cared.

IIIII

"General? You look rough this morning," Hawkeye commented dryly. She thought that it would be another one of the man's romps with some pretty woman but there was a flash in his dark eyes that told her different. "Sir?"

"You know that call I received yesterday that I said was nothing?" He asked as he took a sit in his chair. When she nodded he continued, "It was Winry Rockbell. Apparently FullMetal is not doing as well as we hoped."

"I haven't heard from him at all since I visited him in the hospital," said Riza with concern in her voice. "I just assumed that he moved to Resembool with her . . . is he still depressed?"

"Of course. It was wrong of us to be so positive about it."

"Well they were inseparable," she said, looking at her superior closely. After all of the years spending side by side with him she would like to think that she could read his expressions. But the one he had was not readable. Was he in deep thought? Than she stated more than asked, "You visited him this morning."

"As sharp as ever," He said. "But I'll have to spend more time with him to determine how he's doing. I'm not sure if he's angry, upset, depressed, or dying inside. He always was quite the little liar when it came to his feelings."

"I hope you didn't make jokes about his stature then tell him to just move on," said Riza.

"Even I'm not that heartless."

"Do you think he is up for another visitor?" Riza asked hesitantly. "I could bring Black-Hayate over. Pets do have the abilities to help in the recovery process."

"He already has a pet. A cat," Roy said knowing that the woman who was thinking the same thing as he. Ironic. "So unless you plan on giving the dog a treat of kitten after dinner, I don't think you should take him with you. Or go at all, really, he was upset enough with me for showing up. If a parade of people started marching into his apartment he would all accuse us of 'feeling obligated' to be there."

The blonde haired woman looked disappointed but she nodded in understanding. "Can you handle him by yourself, sir?"

"Oh I'm sure I can manage." Roy smirked, a confident gaze hiding the doubt rolling throughout his tired mind.

IIIII

Roy, the next day, wanted to have an actual plan, so while he drank his coffee in the unnatural quiet of his home he laid in front of him a paper and pen. What was he going to write on it? He hadn't a clue. Thing was he was not familiarized with psychology. How was he supposed to help Ed? Maybe he didn't need a degree in psychology to help him but it wouldn't hurt.

He tapped the pen on the wooden table while thinking. What if he made a wrong move? What if he said the wrong thing? Surely he couldn't damage Edward more but he wasn't sure that he could help him heal either. And why did he want to do this anyway? He wasn't obligated to. Edward was no longer his subordinate after he resigned. Mustang knew that he had to take a long, hard look at himself so he did not do it for the wrong reasons. If he dropped out half-way through the process it could only hurt Ed more.

Roy was a smart man and he knew that jumping into this could be the worst thing he could do. If Edward didn't want his help he was only wasting his time. But ignoring the problems he had with severe denial was possibly the worst thing Edward could do. So what was the best thing that either of them could do?

Edward could accept the help and Roy could extend his assistance.

_Yeah, that's a far away dream_, Mustang told himself. As though Edward would willingly receive help! The teen had pushed any helping hands away since he had been ten so there was no reason to change years later. _Except now he doesn't have his brother so the need is there . . ._

That's when Roy reminded himself that he was an only child in a small family. He could not be a brother but he could be a friend. Would that be enough to help Ed? Roy had to hope so.

IIIII

"Al? _Al_!"

The human figure, Alphonse, kept walking forward. It did not matter that his brother was calling out desperately for him. It did not matter that as Edward tried to run that, with every step, he felt as though his legs were made out of lead. Apparently nothing mattered to the boy because he did not look over his shoulder to even glance at Ed. Edward knew that he didn't deserve it but he just wanted to look at his brother's face one more time.

From where he stood Ed observed the flesh Alphonse was encased in beginning to grow gray. Cracks developed leaving room for bubbling sores coming up from underneath and covered his whole body. His clothes laid in ruins at his feet and he finally stopped walking and cried out in pain. Al dropped to his knees where the sores burst and oozed out white lines that whipped into the air. Ed watched in horror as soon all of the boils began to burst, one by one, consuming Alphonse's mind with agony.

"Al, no! I'm coming! I'm coming!" Even with adrenaline running through his veins it did not get his feet moving fast enough. Soon he felt as if he legs were stone and he was hardly able to move.

It didn't matter. Al was quickly running his way and blind from the suffering. A few feet away from Ed he dropped face down and looked at his brother, his eyes the only thing left untouched by the pustule's. They shimmered with fear.

"H . . . elp me . . . brother," He pleaded, his voice hoarse.

Edward looked up to see that the white lines escaping from Al's body were forming into an oval shape. Did that signify it as his soul?

"I'm . . . dy . . . ing because . . . the transmutation didn't . . . work."

"Al, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Edward was the one pleading now. He hid his face behind his hands trying not to let the tears fall between his fingers.

"Look at me . . . look what _you've_ done . . . to . . . me."

Malice. Malice like Edward had never known Al to speak with. And when he first spoke it, it was to his own brother.

"Look at me!"

Edward flinched underneath his hands but peeled them away. Al's body was deteriorating and he could see his skin turning into ash beneath him.

"Al please believe me. I didn't mean this to happen. I-I wanted to help you! I didn't want you to die. I wish _I_ was the one that died!"

"Be careful . . . what you wish for . . ."

Alphonse was gone and his soul started to depart into the sky.

"AL!"

IIIII

Edward raced to the bathroom and just as he opened the door he regurgitated what little he had eaten the night before onto the tile floor. He clutched his aching stomach unable to walk over to the toilet. He was exhausted from trying his hardest not to sleep. He had finally fallen asleep around five in the morning but two hours later he found himself in the hurling position.

_I feel like I'm about to vomit my insides onto the floor. I know I shouldn't have fallen asleep or even ate for that matter!_

"FullMetal?"

"Go . . . away," ordered Edward breathily between heaving.

Roy walked into the kitchen and grabbed the garbage can. He then thrust it underneath the teenager's chin and he retched, his whole body jerking as his stomach tried to throw out something that was not there.

"Nightmare?" Roy asked.

Edward nodded slowly. He leaned against the door frame and took in large gulps of air. His stomach was still churning, and the taste was horrible in his mouth, but he didn't feel as if he was going to puke again.

Without words Roy brought back a glass of juice and some paper towel. He handed the cup to Ed and than, as quickly as he could, scooped up the barf and put it in the rubbish bin. _Well that goes on the list of the most disgusting things I've done_, he thought. Cleaning up his own puke was one thing but someone else's? Ew.

Edward had already downed the orange juice and was about to get up when Mustang put a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. "Do you feel good enough to walk?"

"Yes."

"Good because we're going out to breakfast. Be ready in fifteen minutes."

"What?" snapped Ed. "I just puked and you want me to eat?"

"If you were sick, that would be one thing, but it was stress induced. And how do you get rid of stress? By doing something relaxing. It's called reasoning. You should do it more often," Roy explained. He looked down at his watch and said, "You have fourteen minutes left. Better hurry."

"You can't make me do anything."

"I can, I will, and when I do I guarantee that you won't like it. We don't have to travel down that road though if you don't want to," Roy said nonchalantly.

"Don't act like you're doing this for my own good."

"I don't need to act like it because I _am_ doing this for your own good. If you think you can hide in this apartment for the rest of your life without human contact you need a shock of reality. You can't and it would be idiotic to even try to do so."

Edward stood up and growled. "So you're calling me an idiot? Way to win me over."

Mustang glanced down at his watch again. "Twelve minutes and counting."

"I'm not going." There was a determination in his eyes that also begged for the dark haired man to stop pushing him but it was of no use. Than he tried to bargain. "Maybe tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow isn't that far away. Are you sure you'll feel more ready tomorrow?" inquired Roy.

"Atleast I'll know what's coming," muttered Edward angrily. "And besides I stayed up until five! I'm not in any mood to go outside."

"All right, let's have it your way. Just convince me that you will go tomorrow."

"I can't," Ed said, a sad sorrow in his voice. "You just don't understand."

"How so?"

"I used to go out with Al everywhere, even if he couldn't eat he would do it just to make me happy," Ed did his best to explain. "It just won't be the same."

"Nothing will be the same as it was. Things change. People change."

"If I hadn't made such a stupid mistake he would be with me now."

"If I hadn't joined the military I would be living a normal life. If my father hadn't married my mother I wouldn't be here. If I hadn't woke up at four in the morning I wouldn't be so tired right now."

Edward blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

"The key word is 'if' and 'if'ing is the worst thing you can do. It's driven people to do some crazy things they normally wouldn't do," said Mustang. "You catch my drift?"

"Yeah, yeah. Can we just do it tomorrow? I want to sleep."

Roy nodded and watched the blonde trudge off to his couch. That made the General ask, "Why don't you get a bed?"

"Don't need it," said the tired alchemist as he laid down, facing towards the couch so he would not have to look at his unwelcome guest. "I've got a couch."

"I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Yup."

_I'm such a liar_, Roy thought with a smirk.

IIIII

"You are such a liar!"

"Are you going to help me get the mattress or not? It's in the car."

Roy had dragged the frame inside and, while the teen watched with glazed eyes, put it into the opposite corner. Than it took Ed only ten seconds to realize what type of frame it was and what Roy intended to do.

"I don't want your charity," sneered Ed.

"I take that as a no."

"You should take it as a 'hell no'!"

"Well I'm getting the mattress by myself then."

Roy was a strong man and was able to pull it along down the hallway. It often fell over but, while Ed peeked from the doorway, he finally got it to the apartment door. The older man had expected resistance but Ed had opened the door letting him pull it inside of the room.

"Help me get it onto the frame."

Edward only leaned against the wall beside the frame, his arms crossed, and with his eyes down towards his feet.

_Ungrateful little . . ._ he thought with immense irritation and finally pushed it up onto the frame. "Good thing you didn't help me. With your little body it might have crushed you," gibed Roy.

He could see a flash of anger in Ed's eyes when they flickered upwards but otherwise there was nothing. That was what scared Mustang the most.

_He _always_ reacts to my short jokes. Great. He's lost any nerve I may have angered him in to._

"Okay. What's wrong with you now? Just a minute ago you were yelling."

"If I get a bed . . . I'll sleep."

"And you're too afraid of the nightmares," Roy completed the thought. "So the whole 'I want to go to bed' thing earlier was a blatant lie?"

Ed only nodded. No smart remarks. No rebellious behavior.

"The couch was uncomfortable enough to make me stay up longer," Ed broke the silence. "So there was no need to go out and buy me a bed."

"I didn't buy you one. I'm not made of money," huffed Roy. "It's from one of my guest rooms."

"I'm still going to sleep on the couch."

"Okay." Roy, surprising Ed, didn't put up an argument. "I'll leave the bed here though if you want to sleep comfortably."

Edward watched as the man left the apartment with no parting words. Had he upset him by refusing the offer of a bed? He knew that the man was only trying to help him but it was also infuriating knowing he was only doing it because Winry asked him to. If she hadn't, Roy would be content with sitting behind his desk and skirt-chasing, while Ed could be content with brooding and waking up every day with an ill stomach.

Well, not content, but he was getting used to it.

_Maybe I should have said thank you. Or atleast not lied to him about my sleeping habits . . ._ He thought as he sat on the bed, bouncing it a little. _Nah. He'll get over it. He's stubborn._

Still Edward felt a tinge guilty about not thanking him or even assisting him in bringing the bed in. The man had promised to help Edward but that didn't include giving him things. Maybe he really wanted to help? Maybe he was being genuine?

IIIII

**I would strongly appreciate reviews.**

**1. I apologize for the long wait. I was really busy! I promise to update as soon as I can.**

**2. And I know a lot of people are thinking 'Ed would never self-injure! That's just for whiny, stupid people!'. Wrong. Self-injury can affect anyone - there are 35 year old successful lawyers who appear to have everything, and there are teenagers who have no other way to express their pain. And self-injury just isn't 'cutting'. It includes bruising, burning, pulling hair to excess, breaking bones, amputation, and consuming toxic or sharp objects, and many other methods. Self-injurers can be quite creative.**


	3. Chapter 3

IIIII

_Chapter Three: Three Things_

IIIII

_Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell - Edna St Vincent Millay_

IIIII

The next day Roy did not show up. Edward was trying to convince himself that did not care if the man was visiting him or not. The previous two days had accomplished nothing! Although he had to admit that it was nice to have someone visit him for more than one day. He had to look at it realistically: Roy had his own life. He was probably only visiting because he's bored. There was no time for a petulant teenager who refused to agree with anything he said.

To keep the hours rolling Edward spent most of his time re-reading books. He was reading _Moby Dick_ for the second time. He would read anything to take his mind off of his troubles - except alchemy books.

Ed had sworn off reading alchemy or practicing it. He didn't need to get any more unsound ideas of trying to bring back the ones he loved. Alchemy had helped in destroying his life. Of course he took full responsibility for his actions but he had recognized that without alchemy he would have never tried to revive his mother. And then Al would have never . . .

Automatically Ed pulled his fist back and pounded it into his calf hoping to leave one of the biggest bruises to date. Pain flared as he felt the repercussion of the blow and he bit his lower lip. Chomped on it would be more accurate since the metallic taste of blood ran in a small trail over his tongue. He had bit through his lip and it hurt like a son of a gun but he welcomed the pain like it was a dear old friend. Actually, to put it bluntly, it was the best friend he had at the moment.

Pain kept his emotions at a safe distance. Pain never chided him. Pain never told him how much of an idiot he was. Pain never accused him of being depressed. Pain made him feel alive. Pain let him feel as though he is not alone.

His left arm ached most of the time from all of the abuse it had taken over the last seven months. Edward wasn't sure if he had even gone a day without self-injuring. He wasn't sure if he could survive a day without it either. But he did not enjoy it aching, or hurting when he moved it, because he only wanted the pain when he administered it. That was why he started to punch his leg that he usually left unscathed. Edward was not a masochist but it was his own way of surviving.

He looked over at the bed and wondered, yet again, why Roy was going out of his own way to aid him. Edward had hated him for the longest time until he found that Roy did have morals. That Roy didn't only care for going to the top. He vaguely remembered Havoc saying, "But if that's all he was about, we wouldn't follow him."

_Then what is he about?_ Edward thought. _I guess I'm just not use to a kind Mustang. I don't think he's used to it either. Maybe he decided to give up and not come anymore._

_Or maybe he realized how much of a hopeless case I am._

Edward looked out of the window and sighed. Another dreary day in the 'life' of Edward Elric. He stared down to the street, sad eyes watching joyful folks roam, and he could feel tears sting the back of his eyes.

_Al . . ._

Seven months had slowly past and he still felt as hollow as the day Al's soul finally left.

_Life just isn't the same. Life will never be the same_, he thought angrily. He could feel his hands tighten into fists. Then he had a distressing thought. _Then why keep living?_

IIIII

Roy Mustang was not a happy man. Reading documents, signing papers, receiving complaints, etc. He had a nice stack of letters on his desk via Hawkeye's determination to never let him slip. The night before he had a late night with some woman from the bar and he had ignored her phone calls the next morning. Didn't the girls understand he was a one-night man? Besides that the phone call had woken him up just in the nick of time to get butt to work. He was a tad disappointed about not visiting Edward but sure the boy would be fine.

He had atleast come to the conclusion that he was not suicidal. That put a weight load off of him. If anything he had just lost motivation, and seemed to be lost, so Roy could help him eventually get back up onto his feet. The bed had been a nice touch to get him living like a normal person again.

"We may be leaving to visit Ivorsins in the next few months," Riza said.

Roy didn't look up from what he was reading. "Is that where the murders have been taking place?"

"Yes. General Evers and his subordinates have been stationed there but we may be the next ones to do so," She replied.

"Why aren't the police taking care of it? Usually the military leaves murders alone-"

"Unless specialties are needed. The man they suspect committing the murders was a Lieutenant not four months ago," explained Riza. "He is a very skilled alchemist and was able to escape from his cell."

"What was he arrested for?" asked Roy.

"Producing chimera's and dissecting them to see how they combined."

"Looking forward to it," He said sarcastically.

"Sir, how is Edward?" It was Riza's turn to ask the questions.

"If I'm being honest I'm not sure. He's still hiding a lot of things and doesn't want to trust me."

"He has had troubles with adult male figures so it only makes sense. His father abandoned him after all."

"I'm not trying to be his father," Roy said.

"Then what are you trying to be?" Hawkeye smirked.

"I'm just trying to help. Though I don't know why but I am."

"You don't have to have a reason," She said knowledgeably.

"I _guess_ I don't need a reason other than he's my friend but that doesn't mean I can help him. All I know is that I can't quit half-way."

"I won't _let_ you quit. Period," she said simply.

That chilled Roy for a moment. Hawkeye could get rough when she wanted to and he wouldn't doubt that if tried to back out that she would drag him through hail, rain, or sleet to Ed's apartment.

"I'll take that as encouragement," Roy said flatly as he flipped a page.

IIIII

Edward could not will himself out of the bathtub. He was soaked to the bone in cold water, shivering slightly, but he told himself to deal with it. After all Al had dealt with a lot worse. He hadn't been able to feel anything so, in some form of logic that Ed had formed, he had to punish himself for being able to feel. To touch. To breath. To smell.

_Damn, it's so cold._

_I'm being so stupid. Just turn of the water and go brood somewhere else._

_I can't. I have to take my punishment. It's Equivalent exchange._

_Again with the stupidity._

_Why do I bring these things on myself? Why do I torment myself with the ifs? Why, why, why?_

Edward could rationalize arguing with himself. There seemed to be two sides to Ed: The self-loathing brute and the hollowed out shell of a human.

He finally did find it within himself to turn the water off but he sat in the freezing bathtub for a while longer. His mind lingered as his body struggled to keep warm.

If Al was here what would he be like? Would he be happy? Healthy? As kind as he used to be? Would his memories have been intact? Would he have grown up to marry? What would his kids have been like? Did he want to live in Resembool for the rest of his life or would he have traveled?

_You would have found out if you hadn't screwed up._

Edward put the water back on but this time as hot as he could bare it.

IIIII

Roy had not been able to follow up with Edward for another two days. Unfortunately he had been called into the south of Central for a funeral of an old military officer and he had to pay his respects since they had once worked together. He had learned while attending the funeral the man had been one of the subordinates working under General Evers in Ivorsins, the one with the serial killer, and that only made Roy more unwilling to be stationed there.

_FullMetal will be fine_, he told himself. _He is almost of age, after all, and I'm sure he wouldn't do something stupid._

Roy wasn't worried, but he should have been.

IIIII

For all the talk of not breaking bones he was having a hell of a time trying not to.

Edward did three things wrong.

One had been sitting in a steaming hot shower for over an hour. His skin was burnt as though he had a sunburn and it was hard to sit down without a fiery sensation. Not that it did anything to help his bruised arm and leg; it only made things worse.

Number two had been using a large wrench Winry had accidentally left behind last time she had brought all of her supplies. He used it in a way that Winry would have never imagined. He struck at his hand with such fury that he could feel it fracture, and the agony he felt was nothing compared to when he had brought it down once again. Out of habit it was and he wished that he never had.

Three was losing control of his anger. Anger at himself for not being good enough. Anger at alchemy for assisting him in ruining his life. Anger at the world which never allowed him a moment of rest for the last seven years of his life. Of course his skin prickled from the heat he had let it endure and then there was a horrible shooting pain that shot up his arm, sending the message clear to his brain that he had broken his hand and possibly his wrist.

_Ah shit!_

Edward grunted and almost yelled out but he knew how thin the apartment walls were. He didn't need to wake somebody so they could call the police about a shouting, swearing teenager.

He had endured harsher pain before - his automail a prime example - but he hadn't meant to break anything. Thing was it wasn't the breaking of bones that scared him, it was the inevitable ride to the hospital so they could splint his joints.

_I'll splint it myself._

Edward never got around to it. He laid on the bed, his mind foggy, and he relished in the torment. He could no longer think straight. Ed was glad that he couldn't.

He could only remember he was more alive than he had been in a while.

IIIII

Roy always knocked before he entered a room. He didn't expect Edward to answer, or to tell him come in, so he opened the door that apparently still did not have a lock on it. As he went into the apartment he said, "Ed I'm cashing in on that eating out thing, except it's night. I know it's pretty late but does dinner sound good to you? And I'm afraid I'll have to change here. I didn't have time to change into civilian clothes. . . ."

He set his clothes down on the bed, ready for a search. For a moment he thought Ed had shut himself in the bathroom since there was no response. In fact there was nothing. Roy had to scan the room carefully - he was small so maybe he was hiding? - but there was nothing to hide behind or underneath. Unless the couch and bed counted but certainly Edward wasn't that childish. Roy did end up looking in both places but he did not find the teen.

While in his search he saw that Autumn's food and water dishes were empty and sighed. The boy was so careless. Should he even own a cat if he won't take proper care of it? He refilled both expecting Ed to pop out of nowhere but he did not. Only the cat came and gratefully ate and drank, purring loudly in thanks.

"Ed? Are you in there?" Roy asked. He felt stupid talking to a bathroom door but it had to be done. He knocked once again but there was no answer. He opened the door only to find that he wasn't in there either!

_Where the hell are you?_ Roy thought, feeling a fair amount of worry simmer.

He walked back out to the car and sat in the drivers seat. He didn't start the car since he hadn't a clue where he would go. Where would Ed go? Did he leave for Resembool? No, he wouldn't leave Autumn behind, so maybe he was just wandering? That wasn't any better since Roy didn't know where to look first. He could be over-dramatizing everything by worrying too much. It was possible that he went out for a walk.

_Yeah right. Like the kid wants to associate with anyone. He wouldn't even go to breakfast!_ Mustang rebuked himself. _But it doesn't make any sense. Then again Ed hasn't made a lot of sense as of late._

He made up his mind to drive around for any sign. Roy would have to hope for the best.

IIIII

Edward wasn't so sure where he was. Had he gone out just to escape from his tiny apartment? No, he liked the cramped space, and preferred it's darkness to the city lights that started to come on as night became more present. He looked up for a while at the stars, sitting on a sidewalk bench, trying to make out constellations.

His broken hand laid uselessly at his side. Ed had just tied it in a rag and hoped that it would heal properly. Actually, he didn't care either way if it healed correctly or not, because it's not as if he were ever going to perform alchemy again. He could read with one hand. He could write with one hand. He could do a lot of things with only one hand.

Ed tried to move his fingers but they were stiff and panged horribly. He knew that he should try to splint it but he lacked what he should have: the want to. If his hand was broken he could easily administer another pain shot by just moving it. If he had a single idea he would rather hurt than think about, he could flash it away in an instant.

_It's such a pathetic way but it works_, he thought. _Am I really this miserable?_

He would have given anything to have Al's kind words echo inside of his suit of armor. Al had always been so forgiving, so gentle, so loving, so . . .

_Not me._

But that was a good thing, right? If he had been like Edward he would have been brash, daring, opinionated, and cynical.

_I'm glad you weren't like me Al. I wouldn't want you to feel as shitty as I do right now._

He twitched his fingers so a familiar burning consumed his hand again.

Edward vaguely knew people were walking past him. Only a few because no one wanted to travel on the streets so late at night. It was almost ten and Edward knew that he should be going back to his apartment. It was rather peculiar how he had been so adamant about not leaving his place and was then not wanting to go back to the dump. At that moment limbo sounded like bliss.

Logically Edward knew he should go to the hospital, make up some reasonable fabrication as to why his hand is broken, and then go back to his own personal hell. It's much too bad that all logic has left the young man, leaving behind a trail of uncertainty.

Edward groaned audibly and stood up, ready to leave his spot of anguish, when he felt a hand clasp onto his shoulder. He whipped around to see a dark haired man of atleast six feet tall, flanked by two other men, one chubby and the other with a large nose. Edward shook off the hand and began to walk away when the man spoke.

"Where do you think you're going?" The hand returned once again to his shoulder, roughly pulling him back. "We just wanna' ask you a coupla' questions."

Out of instinct Edward's hands balled up. He cursed in pain when his broken hand flared up. His vision became bleary because of the overwhelming agony of his damaged bones rubbing against one another.

The aggressors take his cursing another way. "What did you say punk? Wanna say it louder?" Large nose said nasally.

"I'm leaving before I really hurt you guys," said Edward gruffly. He once again shook off the hand and tries to leave, but this time the man grabbed his forearm. Near his wrist, too, just close enough to make the blonde cry out, then react intuitively to the pain and throw a punch. The punch connected bone-on-automail with the guys face, sending him to the ground with a sound THUNK.

"You little shit!" The chubby one pulled out a knife and held it out threateningly.

Edward knew his options there were slim. He could run, but there are two of them, one with exceptionally longer legs than he has. Although he would be quicker because he's smaller (but not_ that _small). And with his hand out of order he would be unable to fight properly. He did manage to knock one guy out cold. Well, almost out cold, since he was getting up only a minute after being socked in the face.

"Knock the bastards teeth out, then take all the valuables he's got," the leader said angrily, pulling out his own blade. He spat out blood onto the concrete.

"Right, Mick," said the chubby one. "He's not getting away with that."

Edward knew he was outnumbered, but these guys are numbskulls. They hardly pose any threat to a military trained alchemist.

_Except this military trained alchemist has a broken arm_, thought Ed wryly. _Fight or flight, Ed, fight or flight!_

"You know what?" Edward said with a dark chuckle. "I haven't been in a good mood lately. I need three punching bags."

The chubby one struck forth with his knife, which was easily dodged by the teen. Without effort he jabbed his knee into the man's considerable gut. The second and third decided to attack together, probably hoping it would double their chances. But Edward was prepared with training only Izumi Curtis could provide. With expert precision he punched with his right arm at Mick, the leader, flesh and bone making a grinding sound against Edward's automail. Then Ed quickly turned to the other, grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him down. The man gave a yelp of surprise at this but it was muffled when Edward kicked upwards, his steel boot connecting with the crook's mouth. Several teeth came out leaving bloody gums behind. Ed grimaced at this.

One definitely out now, two more to go.

Mick, who was back in the same position as before--sitting on the ground rubbing his bruised cheek--growled out, "You are so friggin' dead, short stuff."

"_What did you just say_?" Edward got in the man's face, seriously catching him off guard. "_I still have time for a growth spurt, I'll have you know_!"

Mick jumped up. He towered over Edward, who wasn't backing down in the least. "He's a little off kilter, Donovan. We better get this mugging over with before someone calls the police or sees us."

IIIII

Roy waited for the light to turn green, then made a left on Meyer Lane. He was thinking about going right but he had the same chances of finding Edward on either street. Besides, he could always backtrack.

It's nothing urgent, Roy repeated to himself. He's fully capable of taking care of himself. I'm only checking in on him to make sure he's not doing something stupid. Which is most likely what is going on since he's out at eleven at night.

Roy wasn't looking very far in his search for Edward. The younger alchemist couldn't have ventured too long a distance, considering his unwillingness to go out before. He supposed he should be glad Edward is up and about. After all, he seemed to be stuck in his apartment and wouldn't come out. Vast improvement, this is, compared to moping around hopelessly. Not as though he didn't have a valid reason. Roy can't say he "knows what Edward is going through" since he's an only child, but he does know the immense anguish of losing loved ones. It's something so horrid he wouldn't with is it only anybody.

Five minutes pass and Roy is just about to turn around and backtrack when he heard some yelling not a block away. He's not exactly sure what draws him towards this civilian dispute; after all, he really hopes its not Edward. He couldn't be that stupid as to get in a fight, right?

IIIII

So far Edward has learned three things.

One, fighting people with knives when you're unarmed (and disabled) really is as hard as it sounds.

Two, watch your back because if you're fighting on mugger, another is liable to sneak behind you and kick you down into the dirt.

And three, when in doubt, aim for the groin.

These guys had no problem playing dirty. They must have realized at some point that Edward wasn't using his left arm, letting it flop around uselessly. To confirm their suspicions Mick grabbed the arm from behind, roughly giving it a squeeze and pulling it behind Edward's back.

Pure agony flared up in Edward's arm, all the way up to his shoulder. A roar of pain tore through Edward's throat but was muffled a second later by the leader's free hand. He could feel hot tears stinging the back of his eyes but he wasn't about to give in so easily. Ed kicked behind him but the kick was weak and easily dodged. He could feel bile rise up in his throat as Mick gave his arm another racking twist. His head swam, and he saw black spots in front of his eyes.

He realized, after a moment, that the pain was the result of the leader dragging him by his broken arm into an alleyway. Ed saw Donovan dragging their fallen comrade into the alleyway also. He couldn't help but feel a pang of pride for having atleast pummeled one of them into oblivion.

"Let . . ." (huff) " . . . me . . . " (huff) " . . . go . . . " demanded Edward through the anguish.

"What, this hurt?" He asked, squeezing Edward's wrist, causing him to cry out. "That's for Nicholas. Now pick his pockets, D, and he better hope he's got something good."

Just as Donovan has his hands in Edward's pockets, fishing for goods, do they all hear, "Back away slowly and I may resist the urge to deep fry you."

Edward's head shot up. "Mustang?" He said in disbelief.

Standing there with fingers ready to snap and eyes narrowed dangerously, he said, "I'm not going to say it again. Let him go."

"Since when does the military care about a kid?" sneered Mick.

"This _kid_ is the _Fullmetal Alchemist_," informed Roy condescendingly. "And the only reason you've been able to subdue him is, I'm guessing, that he's probably hurt. Frankly I'm surprised you were able to injure him. Nice going, Fullmetal, you've lost your touch."

"Injure him? We didn't lay a scratch on him!" Donovan said, seeming to be significantly more distressed that someone from the military stood before them than Mick was. "He had a broken arm when we got here."

Roy barked, "I hate liars. Now, for the third and final time, I'm going to say back away from him! Let him go _now_."

Edward used this moment of confusion to get in a good kick. It impacted with Mick's shin, making the man swear loudly and he thankfully let go of his arm. Edward dropped to the ground. Unfortunately his reflexes had kicked in and he brought up his hands to block his face from hitting the ground. When his injured arm had the slightest pressure with the ground he withdrew it and landed on his side, sucking breath in through his clenched teeth, trying to gather his rushing thoughts.

_I'minthemiddleofafight!IhavetohelpMustang!GetupEdgetup!_

"They're taken care of Fullmetal," said Mustang coolly. "They're not getting up any time soon, I assure you."

Edward opened his eyes to see the two men were laying down, each lightly burned. He scooted up towards a wall and leaned his head back, noting how fast his heart thumped in his chest. He had been so close to being mugged and beaten. If it weren't for Mustang coming in and stepping up he doesn't know where he would have ended up.

_Of course I would have beaten them_, he thought._ It just would have been more painful._

Roy kneeled down beside the young man with a softness in his eyes Edward has rarely seen. "Ed, let me look at your arm."

_He never calls me by my name_, thought Edward, somewhat in shock. He was about to obey and let the Brigadier Colonel have a look at it but quickly changed his tune after a second thought of, _No. He'll see the bruises and it'll raise questions._

He brought his flesh arm back and cradled it with his automail arm. With a long winded sigh he said, "I'm fine. Just . . . I assume you came in a car? Just take me back to my apartment."

"You're going to a hospital to get your injuries treated," said Roy, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Apparently Edward did find room for argument because the next words out of his mouth were, "I was planning to splint it myself."

Mustang was quiet for a couple of seconds, as though trying to register this as a plausible plan. Of course it wasn't and he wasn't going to sanction such a dangerous train of thought. He knows he should be shouting at Edward ("What were you thinking?!" "Why were you fighting with these guys instead of running!?" "And why didn't you call me when you broke your arm, I would have helped you!") but something deep within stirred when he saw how crestfallen Edward looked.

Someone at his age shouldn't have those haunted eyes.

"You know better than that," scolded Mustang, frustrating bubbling to the surface. "You can't go outside with a broken arm. What were you going to do, splint it with a tree branch from the nearest park?"

In truth Edward didn't know what he was doing out so late. " . . . Shutup."

"You wouldn't even be able to reach the branches, much less make a splint. And how are you going to splint that with just one arm? You'd need help, obviously." Roy's smug smirk snuck on his face.

" . . . I said _shutup_! Ugh! You are the most infuriating person I've ever met!" Edward shouted indignantly.

"I could very well say the same for you. Now get up, we're going to the hospital," Roy said. He stood up, offering his hand to aid Edward, but Edward refused it, getting up on his own.

Edward grudgingly got inside of the car. He wasn't sure what he was going to do - eventually Roy would ask why his arm was broken. Of course he would lie, it was only the matter of what the lie would consist of. It had to be plausible. "I fell" was weak but it'd have to do. For the time being, Ed ignored Mustang's existence as they rode in silence towards the hospital.

His mind was wrought with thoughts he couldn't stop. How did he allow himself to get this horribly down? Why couldn't he have an easy life, like the people in their comfortable little apartments they were passing? He would bet any amount of money they haven't known even half of the amount of suffering he has. They're unequivocally and undeniably normal. Having normal, everyday tasks to fill out and then they get a good nights rest. No doubt they don't have the nightmares Edward does. Normalcy is something Edward has been striving for for years. Its always evaded him, time and time again. But strife seemed to have no trouble in finding him. Those muggers could have targeted anyone in Central and they just so happened to pick him. Go figure.

If Al had been there they probably wouldn't have bothered him. His giant metal exterior was wholly intimidating to say the very least. Most people had avoided him on the streets; either that or mocked him (which Edward responded to with various curses and threats). Al had always said it was nothing, that it didn't bother him anyhow, but to imagine the emptiness of being only a soul in a suit of armor . . . Edward can't believe he made his brother go through all of those years of torture.

No sense of smell. No ability to touch. Can't smile. Can't frown. Not being able to sleep, to dream pleasant dreams. Always awake, thinking.

That must have killed him. All that thinking.

_And to think I thought I had it hard_, Edward thought, his automail arm bunching up into a fist in anger. _I'm no better than Shou Tucker, messing with nature. Messing around with things that shouldn't have been messed around with. I kept Alphonse's soul from being at peace . . . just so I wouldn't be lonely._

Edward hung his head, his hair falling into his eyes.

_I'm truly a horrible older brother. I failed you, Alphonse, forgive me . . . although I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't._

His shoulders began to shake with the effort of keeping back his grief. He somehow managed to do it though. The last thing he would ever do was cry in front of Roy Mustang. The man would laugh in his face at his weakness!

"Fullmetal, you really don't want to go to the hospital, do you?"

Roy must have misread his body language as tension from not wanting to go to the hospital. Edward took a second to regroup but snapped, "No I don't want to go."

"I know a doctor, he's a good friend. He works for the military. He'll be able to make you a cast. Let's just hope we don't have to re-break it."

"It can't be half as bad as putting automail in," Edward said. "And it won't have to be re-broken. It only broke today."

"So what happened?" Roy finally inquired. "Did they break your arm . . . ?" He sounded doubtful of this.

Edward's pride wouldn't allow him to go with that story. It wasn't that he thought he couldn't be defeated, just not by those three weaklings. He was too proud to let himself be beat by those muggers. Even if Al had been the better fighter, Ed is hardly a pushover. So that story wasn't going to cut it.

Without thinking he said, "I fell."

Roy raised an eyebrow. They were at a stop sign so he had time to throw the teen an unbelieving stare. Under the glare of disbelief Edward began to bristle.

"_What_?" He snapped irritably.

"You . . . fell," repeated Roy, speeding up once again. "Well Fullmetal, I didn't realize you were such a clumsy girl."

"Boys can be uncoordinated!" shouted Ed.

"I suppose you're right," said Mustang. "But I've never seen a clutz in you."

"So, what? You think my arm broke of its own volition?" challenged Edward, glaring back at Roy. His hostile feelings were bubbling towards the surface, ready to explode like a volcano.

"No. I just find it odd that you fell and broke you arm. It must have been one hell of a fall."

"I wish I had some magnificent tale of heroism and adventure to recount for you where my broken arm is concerned, but the fact remains that I fell. Nothing weird happened. I just fell. End of story, okay?" Edward hoped that sounded convincing. He certainly sounded angry enough.

Roy went silent, not caring to turn this into an argument. He supposed he would have to chip away at Edward's angry defenses until he dug up the old Edward, the one who had gumption, boldness, and a liking for life.

_This isn't the real Edward. Not by a long shot._

_I'll get him back to normal for you Winry_, thought Roy. _You too, Al, wherever you are in the afterlife._

IIIII

**First I'd like to thank those who have favorited, alerted, and most of all reviewed so far. You've made me extremely happy and this chapter is deticated to you guys. Now if you could review this chapter and give me your thoughts, everything would be peachy.**

**I hope this chapter was okay. I had a lot of editing and re-do's on this one because I was bound and determined not to turn Edward into a damsel in distress. He can fight, even with a handicap, but there's a point where you're overcome, ya know? And I'm trying my hardest to keep them in character! Don't be too harsh on me, okay?**


	4. Chapter 4

IIIII

_Chapter Four: Life Goes On_

IIIII

_If you're going through hell, keep going - Winston Churchill_

IIIII

The two men shook hands, exchanging smiles. Meanwhile Edward's eyes blinked heavily, wanting nothing more than a decent nights sleep. Of course this is not going to happen now that they're halfway across town at some doctors house Roy knows.

"Oh! Brigadier General Mustang! What a pleasant surprise!" said a thin, older looking man. Despite his age he had golden hair, thinning slightly at the back, and a thick, bushy mustache which covered his whole upper lip making his talking look somewhat comical. "It's so late, but I presume you have a good reason . . . ?"

"I'm here with my friend Edward. He broke his arm," Roy said, gesturing down towards Ed. Ed managed a nod in acknowledgment, but nothing else. He was much to tired for polite greetings.

In truth Edward was extremely tense. How was he going to explain away the ample amount of bruises marking his arm? There was no way he could pass this off as damage done by the crooks. It'd be nonsensical to believe they all attacked one limb of his body. So what credible story could he come up with? There's such a high amount of bruises that saying he bumped into something wasn't going to cut it. Not to mention he'll have to think up something more to add to the "I fell" story. After all, Roy is far from stupid, and the wool isn't going to be pulled over his eyes for very much longer. Edward wondered briefly if he could just go back on his words, swallow his pride, and say those guys did all this to him.

No. No damn way was he going to give up the one thing he had left--his pride--even if it meant enduring some hard questions due to his lame excuses.

_I've gotten myself into this mess_, Edward thought with determination, _I can get myself out of it. There's no use in whining so I might as well not even go there._

"Do you want some tea, sir?" asked the doctor of Mustang, who courteously declined. He turned to the small blonde and offered his hand to shake. With his good arm he shook the man's hand, his broken hanging purposelessly at his side. "I'm Terrance Tritlo. I'm retired from the military now since I'm an old man but Mustang here is a kind gentlemen-" (Edward resisted a snort) "-and visits me every once and a while. This is the first time he's brought a friend, though."

Edward hated having the spotlight on him and with both of these individuals staring at him, Roy with his smug smirk and Tritlo with a kind smile, he felt himself fidgeting where he stood.

"Can we just hurry with this?" He muttered, looking around the homely house because making eye contact ensures questions, and he's not ready yet for those questions.

Then why did you ask them to hurry, you dolt? Edward chastised himself. He shook his head and said, "Can I use your bathroom, sir?"

"By all means, my boy, go ahead. Down the hall, last door on the left."

Edward wasn't quite sure what his plan of attack was but if he could get away from Mustang for just five minutes, maybe he could clear his head enough to formulate a strategy. He could feel Roy's eyes bore into the back of his head. Ed felt like turning around and snapping, "If you have something to say it, say it!" but instead he audibly stomped his way down the hall towards the bathroom.

As soon as Edward got into the bathroom he took off his coat, gingerly when it came his broken arm turn to come out. He hissed in agony as it came out of the sleeve, then slapped against his stomach. Edward bit his lower lip to keep himself from crying out. Seriously, he would never break another bone again, no matter how far down he wanted to push his emotions. It's better to cry it out than be in pain for the next few weeks while your bones stitch themselves back together.

Yet Edward couldn't find it in himself to want to give up the self-injuring. It'd become his close companion, something which could comfort the darkest reaches of his mind. It was a twisted relationship. Logically, he knew it was an unhealthy coping mechanism and he should drop it at this very moment. Unfortunately it was his emotional side overriding his actions now.

Edward had always been an expert at hiding how he truly felt but ever since Alphonse had died, well, there was no real reason to hide it any more. It had all been an act for Al.

_Al, Al, Al. Everything was for Al. I did everything for him, and nothing for me. But I didn't matter. As long as he was happy, I didn't matter._

_But he was never truly happy, now what he?_ said a mocking little voice from the back of Ed's mind. _No one in his situation could have been happy._

Even in death he consumed his brother's every thought and feeling.

Edward gripped the edge of the sink with his one arm and hoped against hope he could overcome these damned feelings. They were useless. He could very well do without them bombarding his every waking moment, like a filthy disease of the brain. Edward wished he could shut them all off like a switch. If only he could find that switch . . . if only . . .

But Ed knew he had more pressing concerns to worry about. What would he do about his arm? Even if he secluded the doctor, forcing Roy into a different room while the cast was put on, he was sure that Tritlo would tell Roy. They were comrades from the military--of course he would tell him. He'd deem it his duty because obviously Edward would need professional help that the doctor himself could not provide and blah, blah, blah!

Ed let out a grunt of frustration. Why couldn't all of these people just let him stew in his own misery?

Okay, if Edward were to be realistic about this situation he's gotten himself into, he was stuck. There was no where to run and try as he might Roy was not about to abort his mission of getting him 'stable'. There's no trick he could play to convince Roy of his innocence whereas his arm is concerned. Nor is there any story he could conjure which would explain the bruises and the broken arm.

With no viable options left, there was only one thing left to do.

Confront him with it.

As crazy as it sounded, it was the only thing Edward could come up with. If he confronted him with this then he could get in a few words while the shock set in. As in "It's my damn body and I'll do with it as I see fit." It wasn't something he wanted to do. Far from it. He was scared of coming out with it; what would Roy's reaction be? So angry he would be at a loss for words? Or would he be more thoughtful?

Edward snorted. A thoughtful Roy. There's a laugh.

_Think of what he's done for you so far_, a tiny voice told Edward. _He _is_ thoughtful. You just keep pushing him away. You're the unthoughtful one here, Ed._

He contemplated putting his coat back on but not only would it hurt like hell, it was useless to do so. Edward was going to take it off any way to show Roy the bruises. It would save him much effort and pain not to put the coat back on. After much deliberation he opened the bathroom door . . .

. . . to find Mustang standing there, his balled fist up, ready to knock. He looked down with a flash of concern in his onyx eyes. But it disappeared as quick as it came.

"What do you want?" asked Edward moodily.

"I--Edward, your arm, it's . . . "

Edward glanced down to his purple, yellow, blue, and black arm. All the way to his shoulder it was colored. Hardly any regular skin-tone remained.

"What is going on with you?" hissed Mustang. "First I find you in a hellhole, then you wander the streets and almost get beaten. And don't you believe for one second that I give credence to your story that you fell. You're a mess, Fullmetal, and I want answers. Straight forward answers, this time, not half-assed, thought-up-in-the-moment answers."

Edward could see Roy was very well pissed off. He had reasons to be, too, but he didn't have to lecture the blonde like he was eleven years old.

"You're just going to fail in helping me anyway, so why should I be straight forward with you?" Edward challenged the older man.

"You're so sure everything is going to fail when you don't know that for sure. Of course, if you say 'Things are going to turn out horrible, I just know it!' then yes. Yes, Fullmetal, things will turn out as such."

Roy was intentionally blocking Edward's path. He wasn't about to let the kid go before he received an explanation. He stared down in incredulity at Edward's arm. It was unbelievable, the extent of the damage. He must've been in immense pain every time he used his arm and he never so much as whimpered. Roy had gotten the gist of how he received those bruises; self-inflicted, it looks like, and every one of them looks more painful than the last. The Brigadier General never encountered someone with such a problem, he'd only heard about it, and when he did hear about it it was normally woman who were self-injuring. To see a male self-injurer, and for it to turn out to be Fullmetal . . . it was mind boggling.

_He's gone through so much_, Mustang had to remind himself._ It was only a matter of time before he snapped._

"I'm not letting the doctor fix your arm until you tell me the truth," demanded Roy. He already knew the truth but he wanted to hear it right from Edward. "What the hell happened to your arm?"

"Drop it and let me through," said Edward, grinding his teeth in frustration.

"No. Answers first."

"I _said_ let me through, Mustang."

"You may have gotten away with it with your friend but not with me."

By this time Edward was glaring daggers up at his former superior. The hatred circulating in those golden eyes did not bother Roy. The teen was mostly angry at himself for getting into this damned situation. Roy was only an easy target, not really the object of his ire, no matter how annoying he was being at that moment.

Edward meant to confront him with his problem but his plan was falling to pieces. It was easier said than done. It seemed like a credible idea just a few moments ago, but now . . .

Roy leaned against the door entrance. "I have all night Fullmetal. I'm not the one with the broken arm."

Edward bit his bottom lip in thought. Could he trust the Brigadier General? He'd certainly proven himself trustworthy in the past. All he is, really, is a big pain in Edward's ass.

"Listen . . . I . . . It's . . . " Edward's sentences fell apart under Roy's stern gaze. "All I know is that it makes me feel better, all right? When I'm miserable, it makes things bearable. When I'm angry, it calms me down. I--I can't be without it. You wouldn't . . . you wouldn't begin to understand, even if you asked me a thousand questions about why I do it or when. You just _can't_."

"Fullmetal . . . " sighed Mustang.

He watched as the fragile boy crumbled in front of him. Piece by piece, bit by bit, the shell chipped away.

"I don't know what to do anymore," said Edward thickly. "What do I do without him? I'm nothing without Al."

Tears pooled in his eyes and he gripped at his injured bicep, squeezing it, letting the pain flood through his mind. Seeing this self-injurious behavior set Mustang into action.

"Stop that, Edward!" hissed Roy, keeping his voice down only because the doctor was in the house. He had hold of Edward's automail arm, keeping it out of punching distance of his other arm. "Don't you _dare_ think I'll let you get away with that in front of me."

"Al . . . " whispered Ed. His shoulders shook with the effort it took to keep his tears at bay. "Al, why'd you have to die?"

Roy remained silent. He pondered on this question. He truly had no answer for it, and it would be foolish to try and relieve his stress by answering it. Instead Roy said, "You can cry, Ed. No one would hold it against you."

"_Shutup_!" yelled Edward, ripping his arm out of Roy's grasp. He was red in the face, obviously embarrassed that his walls came down, even if it was all for one minute. He rubbed away the tears and said, "I'm fine. Just shutup and leave me alone."

Despite Edward's harsh words Mustang put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Should we go get your arm put in a cast now? I'm sure the doctor's mixed the plaster by now."

Ed shook the hand off. "Fine. Whatever."

IIIII

"Take a deep breath, Edward," said Tritlo, his and Mustang's hands hovering over Edward's broken arm.

Edward's whole body became tense. He knew what was going to happen but this was his punishment for doing such a thing, he supposed, so he better take it in stride. It couldn't be more painful than setting the nerves in his automail.

"One, two, three!"

Tritlo and Mustang pushed down on the broken bone, shoving it back into it's original position. To Edward's credit he didn't scream, but he was shaking uncontrollably.

"Why are you shaking, Fullmetal? I didn't feel a thing," said Roy.

"Shut . . . up!" gritted Edward. "You shouldn't . . . make fun of . . . people in pain!"

"Yes, don't mock the boy, Mustang," Tritlo reprimanded. He quickly turned his attention to Edward. "You'll have to bear with us, Ed. This may hurt more--"

"Just get on with it. I've dealt with worse," dismissively said Ed. Despite this statement he gritted his teeth once the doctor started prodding the tender area, searching for any more breaks.

Roy held out his arm in front of Edward's chest and said, "Here. You can squeeze my arm as much as you like to help you through this."

"I'm now--_ow!_--h-holding your damn hand," grinded out Edward.

"I'm not offering you my hand. I clearly said arm. Besides, you're not my gender of choice, so I'm not flirting with you . . . I never thought I'd have to make myself clear on that."

With reluctance Ed used his automail arm and squeezed on Roy's forearm. He was trying his hardest not to leave any bruises. He did have a lot of pent up anger at the Brigadier General but he didn't want to physically hurt him . . . most of the time. Sometimes he wouldn't mind giving him a punch or two, but at the moment he's quite preoccupied with something else.

Edward grimaced at both the pain and Roy's sense of humor. He replied, "Like hell. You--ouch--you'd hit o-on anything with a p-pulse."

"If I were going to play for my own team I'd choose someone closer to my stature and maturity level."

By this time Tritlo was wrapping Ed's arm in the plaster.

"And where are you going to find a six foot two year old?"

"Ha-ha," said Roy. "So tell me something--"

"Depends on what it is."

"Are you planning on crushing my arm so we have matching casts, or are you just still mad?"

"Am I ever done being mad with you?"

Roy smirks. "Always the smart-ass."

"Well I was under your command for several years. I had to become a smartass to survive. Besides, someone has to be smart around here," Edward quickly replies.

Edward stared at his hand gripping the mans arm. It took him a lot to strength to be able to admit he couldn't handle the pain on his own. It really was a nice gesture for Roy to make. It was also equally nice to have an anchor while the other man worked on his arm. He was past the severe pain; it only ached now, and badly. The plaster constricted once dried and that's when Mustang's arm really came in handy. He gripped roughly. Roy didn't so much as flinch.

"I'm done here," Tritlo said, self-satisfied. "Since I left the military I've made my living helping folks who can't properly pay for a doctor. So I don't expect payment, Edward."

"I do have money," said Edward. He recalled his last bank statement and it wasn't nearly as high as he liked, but that's what happened when you have no job for several months straight. It was dwindling down to the last sen. Yet he couldn't leave this mans kindness unpaid.

"Not a problem," the good doctor shook his head. He added, "A young man like you needs his money."

An amused voice interrupted their conversation, "Are you going to let go anytime soon or do you like holding onto me?"

Getting red in the face Edward tore his hand away, mumbling, "Bastard."

"Don't listen to him. Roy just likes to pull people's legs."

"Doesn't make it any less annoying," muttered Ed.

Tritlo sighed and said, "Roy, I really must talk to you."

"Alright." Roy stood there, awaiting the doctor to say something of importance.

"In private," he clarified.

Edward was going to complain but saw how futile the effort would be. He was simply doomed to sit there, bored, while the cast dried. He was commanded not to move his arm while it did so. He fidgeted in his seat with a grumpy look on his face.

IIIII

"The boy obviously needs mental help. Normal people do not do that," Tritlo argued, his voice low so the boy wouldn't over hear. The two men were in Tritlo's room with the door closed but he didn't want to take any chances.

"He's going through a tough period right now. Frankly, I'm surprised he hasn't gone off the deep end," Roy sighed, running a hand through his raven black hair. "If you're waiting for an explanation of how he got this way, doctor, don't hold your breath."

"Yes, I know. It's not your story to tell," agreed Tritlo solemnly. "I merely worry for the young man."

"I'm worried too."

Tritlo smiled widely. "I've never seen you care for a child, Roy. He must really mean something to you."

Mustang chooses this moment to look away. He doesn't dare look the doctor in the eyes. He murmured, "Um, yeah, I guess."

"You don't have to say anything more," said Tritlo. He sat down at his desk, took out a matchbook from within it and tried to light a match. The match-stick broke before it would light. "That was my final one, too . . . "

Roy snapped his fingers and flames shot out at the candle sitting next to Tritlo, which now burned brightly thanks to the military officer.

"Thank you," said the doctor. He leaned back in his chair and added, "I believe you should get Edward the proper psychiatric care. If he's disturbed enough to break his own arm I don't think he should be left out on the streets."

"What are you implying?" inquired Roy with a dangerous tone. "He would never hurt anyone unless forced to, I assure you that much."

"You misunderstand me Roy," he quickly tried to make up for his error. "I only meant that he shouldn't be left by himself. Someone with the mindset of a self-injurer is very unstable. You don't know what they're capable of and I bet you anything that that young man is hiding more horrible secrets than I or you will ever be able to comprehend."

"He doesn't have to bear them alone any more," said Roy, adding, "You said I should get him psychiatric care, well I don't agree. Not only would he not go because he's too stubborn, but he's got other people to help him through this. He has the people he worked with for five years, he has his friend back home, and he has me. We're not giving up on him even if he gives up on hiself."

Tritlo smiled once again. "I heard your little argument. You're good at reprimanding but you're worst at conveying your caring side. I know you, Roy. You're not cut out for this, taking care of a child. Maybe it is time you give power over to a professional."

Roy clenched his fists. Was the doctor right? In the end, was he only detrimental to the cause of getting Edward healthier? He's always known he isn't the best for taking care of a child. But Fullmetal is not a child. He's almost a full grown adult and he deserves to be treated like one. So of course Roy isn't going to be soft and gentle with him; he's going to kick his ass in gear. But . . . maybe, sometimes, when the time is right, he could afford to be more amicable. Tritlo is right about that, though. He's never been great with his feelings. He's mostly held them at bay. As an officer you can never be too emotional; it will cost you dearly on the battlefield.

_I guess I've brought that into real life too, my apathy_, he thought.

Roy said, "I'd rather take my chances with me and my men than with someone I don't know and whom Fullmetal doesn't know."

"Alright. But it could be Edward who pays for it in the end."

"You really don't have a lot of faith in me, do you, doctor?"

Tritlo shakes his head and gravely replies, "I'm a doctor, first things first, and then a friend. As a friend I would like to support you in your decision but the doctor within me says this isn't the best thing for Ed."

"You talk about him like you know him, but you don't Tritlo, so you may as well leave the subject alone," Mustang snapped. He was now becoming angry with the doctor, who was pushing his buttons. "And if you heard our argument than you know that I don't plan on letting him go down the path of self-destruction for much longer."

"You can plan all you want," said Tritlo, "but isn't it Edward who has to forge his own road? You can't change his course if he's determined to head down it. You're not going to be much help to him."

"I can damn well try," gruffly said Roy. He opened the door and stopped to say, "I appreciate you helping Edward out, Tritlo, but as for your views, well, I'm pretty sure you know where you can stick those."

When he marched out of the room Tritlo didn't try to stop him. He only sat there, with a knowing smile on his face.

IIIII

Meanwhile, Roy made his way into the living room where Edward still sat in the chair, his arm now engulfed in a bulky white cast. His head was slightly tipped back, and his breathing was even. Even before Roy reached him he realized he had fallen asleep sitting up. This made Roy smile slightly. He wished he could be in the same position; a nice comfy chair, leaning back without a care in the world . . . Well, the latter was a lie. Both of them had a lot to worry about, but it would be easier to worry about them in the morning once they both had gotten some rest.

Roy rubbed away the sleep in his eyes and patted Edward on the shoulder. "Up and at 'em, Fullmetal."

"Whaaa--? Oh, Brigadier General bastard," murmured Ed groggily, using his favorite nickname for the older man. He rubbed at his own eyes.

"Pipsqueak, rise and shine. We've got to get you home and in bed."

"What time is it?" Ed asked, getting out of the chair. He tested the weight of his arm with the cast by swinging it in a full circle at his side. It certainly made it heavier, but not very much.

"Past your bedtime, that's for sure."

"Wait, I should thank--"

"No, we're leaving," said Roy in a no-questions-asked tone. For once, and maybe only once, Edward listened. This could be attributed to how tired he was right then, or perhaps because Roy sounded too intimidating.

The two men left the house, went into their waiting car. One of them fell asleep within the next minute or so, his head slumped against the window, a rare peaceful look on his face, and the other drove down the dead silent road.

IIIII

"Fullmetal wake up. Come on, wake up."

Edward blinked his golden eyes, then yawned widely. "Here already?"

"I'll be seeing you tomorrow afternoon so don't go and do something stupid before then, okay? Take care of yourself and . . . you know the number to call if you feel like hurting yourself again. Call that if you have the urge. Either Hawkeye or I will answer."

"Don't tell her," Edward said in an almost whining voice. He just couldn't stand to imagine the look of disappointment in her eyes if she learned what he had done to himself.

"I have to. You can trust her, I promise. She cares a lot for you too. You realize that, right?"

Edward's gaze drifted down, weighted heavy with guilt. How could these people care for him when he had killed his own little brother? It's not something you can simply overlook. They cared for him, supposedly, but at some point they would find him repulsive and drop him like a bad habit.

Yet he couldn't say this. He only nodded numbly, opened the door, and got out of the car. He headed up to his apartment, not acknowledging the muffled, "It'll be a better tomorrow, Fullmetal, I promise."

IIIII

**Sorry, sorry, sorry! Sorry for the late update. I went on a two week vacation, then I had to rewrite and rewrite to get it to my liking. And I apologize for it being rather short. Or, rather, short in my view.**

**-bows- I appreciate you reading up to his point. And I've gotten so many great reviews! It's all thanks to you. I can assure you that all updates will be quicker now because I don't have any planned trips. Keep reviewing, please. I love to know what you think, even if you hate it with all your guts!**

**As for the cast thing please don't correct me on that. I know I probably got it wrong on how it was made or what procedure they have when putting one's arm in a cast, but this is how I see them doing it.**


	5. Chapter 5

IIIII

_Chapter Five: A Dinner For Two_

IIIII

_I don't know why they call it heartbreak. It feels like every other part of my body is broken too - Missy Altijd_

IIIII

Edward was hunched over the bowl, saliva dripping from his lips, as his stomach debated on whether it wanted to throw up the rest of it's undigested contents. As good memories faded and horrid ones resurfaced, he had nothing positive to cling on to. The world had been reduced to one large, dreary, uninviting place once again. It seemed to be doing this more and more often lately.

Bits and pieces haunted him, like a disturbing short movie everytime he closed his eyes.

_Mom. Or, rather, the vile thing that was supposed to be their mother figure. It's insides splayed out for all to see, a living, but half-dead, sin. Their sin. No, only Edward's sin. Alphonse was only an innocent bystander. . . . But the hacking, sputtering last breaths of the gruesome creature they'd summoned would forever remain in the back of his mind._

Ed's eyes shot open. He leaned back in his own personal hellhole and looked up to observe the cracks in the ceiling.

It's no use. Even with his eyes open his minds eye plays the dreadful reel.

_"We tried reviving him three times, Mr. Elric. I'm sorry but--"_

_No. No way. This news was not being given. Edward refused to believe it. These damn doctors weren't doing their jobs right if his younger brother was dead._

_"Try again, dammit! That's my little brother. I'm not letting you give up on him!"_

_"There's nothing else we can do. Multiple resuscitations didn't work. I'm afraid that your brother is dead--"_

_Again, Edward interrupted. "You're a horrible excuse for a doctor then!"_

Then what does that make you, Edward? You had the Philosophers Stone and you couldn't bring him back to life, either_, said a nasty voice in the back of Edward's head._

_"Don't take your aggression out on the doctor, Ed," said a deep voice sternly but it didn't register. Edward didn't recognize it, in his frenzied state._

_Push. Shove. Making his way towards Alphonse's lifeless body. He crumbles at the gurney's side._

_"Al! Al! Talk to me! Say something, please!" begged Edward, holing his little brother's insipid hand. Tears freely ran down his face which he buried into Al's naked chest. "Al . . . no . . . I can't be without you . . . come back!"_

_"Mr. Elric," said the doctor softly._

_"You were supposed to come back, fucking dammit! You were supposed to be fine! What did I do wrong? _What did I do wrong_?" wailed Edward, pain in his every syllable._

_"Mr. Elric," the doctor repeated._

_"Let me handle this Dr. Owens. Thank you for your help," said the same deep voice. In his uproar it still didn't register as to whom the voice belonged. "Ed? It's Mustang."_

_"Leave us alone," he mumbled loudly. It seemed his anger was mostly spent but the volcano that was his ire could burst open any moment._

_"You have to get away from the body. You're getting all bloody," said Roy gently as possible._

_Edward wiped at his face and sure enough it had Alphonse's blood on it. He clearly remembered the convulsions, the spewing of what seemed like gallons of blood. Blood everywhere. All over Al's poor newly recovered body._

_Edward made a painful noise in the back of his throat. Al's blood was on his hands . . . he was a murderer . . ._

He's not completely lucid_, Roy thought. _I need to get him back to reality_._

_"Ed, listen to me," Roy began, kneeling next to him. "We'll have time to say our goodbyes after they clean him up."_

_"But . . . I don't want to . . . say goodbye," gasped Edward brokenly._

_Roy put his hands on Ed's shoulders, and after only a moments hesitation, drew the upset boy in close. Ed didn't even struggle, he only cried into his superior's shoulder. They were heavy, burdened tears of a lost boy who was now absolutely alone in the world. Roy looked over Edward's shoulder to see Al's body and had to quickly look away. Even as a hardened soldier of war he's barely seen something so traumatic. A young boy, blood splattered all over him, his eyes dark, gazing up but not seeing._

_"I'll miss him, Ed. I'll miss him a lot too," said Roy._

Yes, if Edward remembers correctly they stayed like that for a minute or so. Then he had come to his senses and pulled out of the man's arms. To think about it, it was quite embarrassing. Being hugged by another man in front of a small audience of nurses and doctors was emasculating. But right then it had been comforting.

Edward did trust the man. After all, he told him where the transmutation would take place and when. And he had called him out of a need for a ride to the hospital after things had taken a turn for the worst. The ambulance had said he wouldn't be able to ride with them since there was no room. To Mustang's credit, he dropped everything and picked Ed up. First Lieutenant Hawkeye would have accompanied him but for what Roy abandoned she and the others had to pick up.

Edward closed his eyes and tried to shut it all out. He knows the Brigadier General told him to call if he felt like self-injuring but it was all for nothing. Nothing could save him, and nothing would free him of his grief!

Anger building he pulled up his pant leg to reveal some colorful bruises. He smashed his knuckles into the middle of the bruises and gasped at the pain. It was so blissful, yet wrong. How could something so iniquitous be so addictive? And it's not like Roy would ever know. He wasn't going to scour Edward's body for bruises (because Ed wouldn't let him, no matter how guilty it made him look). If Ed were to abstain from self-injury he surely would go insane. The feelings bubbling to the surface would cause him so much panic and hysteria that they would drive him into insanity.

Again, something played cruelly inside of his mind:

_A crying Winry to his left. A grieving Pinako to his right. Many people from the military there to offer their condolences._

_Edward was chosen to say a few words, but what could he say? He had been up all night but couldn't compose a single paragraph. Alphonse's life was greater than that. He had been Ed's everything. How can you convey that to the people watching? How could anyone ever begin to comprehend how strong the bond was between them? Al was to Ed what light is to dark. Ed was to Al what sun is to moon. There can't be one without the other. But, finally, one is without the other, and was taken the in the most brutal fashion._

_Finally it came for Edward to say some words. He was following Winry, who had given a heartfelt speech. Ed regretted that he was only half there to listen._

_He stepped up to the podium and coughed uncomfortably. Behind him was the finely crafted casket containing his flesh and blood. He began with the obligatory, "Thank you all for coming here today. As you know we're here to commemorate my little brother's life." He paused, contemplating what to say next, but it suddenly came to him, "Alphonse . . . Alphonse was nothing short of an amazing individual. He would . . . he would have given you the clothes off of his back. He loved first and asked questions later. He cared for the littlest of creatures and he fought for those who couldn't fight for themselves. . . . The fourteen years I got to spend with Al were the best years of my life. Everyone who ever met him liked him and were better people for meeting him. I think what I liked most about him was . . . his smile. His smile, it always made me happy, even if I had had the worst day._

_Last night I attempted to write about my little brother and I couldn't come up with anything. Now I realize why. It's because Al was so astonishing, and anyone who met him could attest to this, that there are no words credible enough to describe him. I could use loving, caring, attentive, thoughtful, considerate, but none of them compare to the person that was Alphonse Elric."_

_By this time many people were crying, or crying anew. Edward himself was becoming blurry-eyed and had to wipe away the tears with his sleeve._

_"I loved my little brother will all my heart. He . . . he will be missed by a lot of people, but no one will miss him as much as I will," admitted Edward. He hung his head low so they wouldn't see the few stray tears making their way down his cheeks. "I . . . I don't know what else to say."_

_"You don't have to Ed," assured Winry who was in the front row. She was crying without encumbrance. "That was beautiful."_

"Oh Al," whispered Edward, holding his head in his hand. "Why did you have to go?"

IIIII

Roy Mustang yawned widely, stretching his arms out wide.

"Long night, sir?" inquired Hawkeye. Currently it was only her and Roy in the room. The subordinates were each on their own mission.

"Fullmetal is a handful, I'll tell you that much."

Hawkeye said, "I would like to visit him too, sir."

Roy blinked at her than waved her off. "I don't think so. He's much too embarrassed as it is. He practically begged me not to tell you about his hurting himself."

"I can see why he didn't want me to. Self-injurers like control and he's steadily losing his," said Hawkeye. When Roy gave her a questioning glance she added, "I took a course in psychology when I was younger."

"What more can you tell me about this behavior?" asked Mustang, genuinely interested.

"Well, for starters, it's a behavioral pattern, not a biological thing," began the woman, "so medication doesn't help it directly. And although it's ironic, self-injury doesn't mean the person is suicidal. You see, when most people witness the cutting, which is the most common form of self-injury, they think the person wishes to die. Paradoxically, it's a life-saving mechanism. It's meant to keep a person alive. Although, it's not to say that there aren't suicidal self-injurers out there."

"I honestly don't think he'll commit suicide. If he were going to he would have done it a long time ago back when the pain was more fresh," Roy said, tenting his fingers under his chin. "What can be done for him?"

"Well, the most effective treatment is long-term behavioral therapy."

"Yeah, he'll go for that sure thing," sarcastically drawled the Brigadier General.

"I'm not suggesting it will be easy to convince him that he needs help, sir. But what I am suggesting is that you let me assist you," Hawkeye said, still determined. "Edward is stubborn but he can be persuaded."

"Lieutenant, when I require your assistance I'll tell you. I'm not leaving you out of the loop because I want too, alright? I'm doing it because Fullmetal is still fragile." A pause. "Never tell him I said that. He would attempt to murder me on the spot."

Hawkeye smiled softly.

IIIII

Edward wandered about his apartment, Autumn in tow, not really knowing what to do now. He was restless and frankly, he was waiting for the Brigadier General to show up. It hadn't become a highlight of his day, no, no, that would suggest that he liked Roy showing up at random intervals. But to say he disliked it was a lie too. It was a lie he very well could keep. After all, he supposedly hated the General. The two were always fighting and at differences with eachother. They never gotten along and Al or Hawkeye had always acted as mediums to keep the peace.

At the very least the man wouldn't find him huddled in the bathroom again. He'd gotten out of there, memories running through his mind, and did his best to avoid thinking about it for the rest of the day. It was around one o' clock now and he was running out of things to distract himself with.

Just when he thought he couldn't stand another moment of silence, there was a knock on the door. Not to seem as desperate he waited a moment before answering. Of course he had a 'what the hell are you doing here?' patronizing look on his face, despite knowing and semi-liking the person on the other side of the door.

"Don't look so happy to see me Fullmetal. It may become a habit," drawled Mustang as he allowed himself in.

Edward shut the door and watched as his former superior scratched his cat under the chin. He said, "Don't worry. I don't plan on being happy around you any time soon."

"Too bad. I can be quite fun when the time calls for it."

"You? Fun? Ha! All I see you do is lazy around, sometimes do paperwork, and attempt to woo women."

"I don't know what I should be more offended about; the lazy part or the 'attempting' to woo women, because I get my fair share of women," said Mustang, "unlike some shorties, I've noticed."

"Who are you calling so short that you would squash like a minuscule bug if you weren't careful to watch your step!" snapped Edward moodily. After realizing Roy wasn't going to reply to this he said, crossing his arms (which was a hard thing to manage considering the cast), "And I could get a girlfriend. I'm just not interested at the moment."

"I could have sworn you and that blonde girl were dating. What was her name?" Mustang tapped at his chin in thought.

"Winry? Nah. We fight more than anything. She even left last time on a sour note," recalled Ed.

"Ever consider that she's simply worried about you? She knows something is seriously wrong, Fullmetal, she just couldn't put her finger on it," said Roy all-knowingly. "And I'm guessing you still think you're fine."

"I'm . . . "

_Hunched over the toilet, throwing up his guts._

_Waking up screaming from a nightmare._

_Sulking around the apartment without a purpose._

"I'm working on it," finally said Ed.

It wasn't exactly the admittance Roy was looking for but with Edward this was most likely the closest thing to one he would ever get. As long as he was willing to give change a chance.

"I'm going to help myself to whatever you have in the fridge," announced Roy. He didn't even wait for Ed's reaction to this to go over to his refrigerator and looking through it's contents.

Behind him Edward said, "Don't go looking for much. Winry didn't buy me much last time she came here, said something about a serious budget cut, but I _guess_ you're welcome to whatever is in there."

Roy surveyed what was in there. Some packaged sandwiches, which would go bad in a few days because they were all roast beef and had already been in there for a while, a half-eaten pie, a jug of apple juice, and an untouched carton of milk. This made Roy's lips twitch into a smile. It seemed that someone was trying to help him in his quest to grow taller, but he wasn't having it. With the looks of things there was only one regrettable thing left to do . . . go grocery shopping.

It was regrettable for the mere fact that there's nothing Roy hated more than the tediousness of grocery shopping. Picking up every item, putting things back, remembering what you needed, adding and subtracting, looking for special sales, the obligatory child crying relentlessly for candy in the aisle next to you, whom you want to tell shut the hell up but can't because that would be very rude so you just boil and stew until finally you tell the kids parent to calm the kid down and then the parent gets all pissy with you like it's _your_ fault the kid is being a brat, so you just try to ignore it until you leave the isle hoping distancing yourself will make things easier.

So when he said, "I'm taking you grocery shopping," the ire in his voice wasn't directed towards Ed. But, of course, the blonde perceived it that way since he obviously couldn't read minds.

"It's not my fault she didn't buy me enough groceries. You don't have to sound so pissed at me."

"I'm not pissed at you," sighed Roy. He closed the refrigerator door. "I just hate grocery shopping. I usually have one of my subordinates do it for me."

Oh how could Ed forget? He remembered the first time he had been asked to carry out one of Roy's personal errands. He had yelled that he wasn't the then-Colonel's damn dog but Havoc had pointed out he was a dog of the military. So he and Al had been forced to go through the crowded East Central stores in search for mangoes, potatoes, and butter.

"No one is making you take me. I can take myself anyway," Ed said scathingly. He hated feeling like he was being treated like a child.

"No. I want to take you. I'll pay for it, too."

Edward raised a quizzical eyebrow. "What are you being so nice for?"

"I'm not being nice," stated Roy. "I'm paying because I had a look in your bank account so I happen to know you're not doing so well--"

"You bastard! That's private! And how the hell did you manage to do that anyway?"

"The bank is controlled by a woman. Like I said, I often get my way with the ladies. All I had to do was convince her that you were my sick younger brother and she felt so sorry for me that she let me have a sneak peek," said Roy, a smug smirk planted on his face. He shooed away Edward's fury with a wave of his hand. "I only did it out of concern if it makes you feel any better."

Of course, it made no difference.

"We look nothing alike!" ranted Edward. "She should have known better! And I would never want you for an older brother, Mustang, you're a conniving, womanizing bastard!"

Roy also waved these comments away. They seemed to bounce right off of him and strike Edward instead, since he was the one who was visibly upset. "You can keep sweet talking me Fullmetal or we could make our way to the grocery market. Your choice."

"No. Why did you take a look at my bank account?" Ed demanded to know.

"I told you. I was _concerned_. Is that so hard to believe?"

"In fact, yes, yes it is!"

"Could you stop yelling? Your walls are thin and I don't want your neighbors to think we're an arguing gay couple. It could ruin my image." Roy held back a laugh when Edward's face blanched and he stammered. "Relax Fullmetal. No one thinks you're gay. Except Havoc . . . and Hawkeye . . . and Falman . . . and Fuery . . . and Breda . . . and--"

"Y-you're a liar, Mustang!"

Roy finally did laugh, albeit it was short because a projectile of a water bottle flew at (and over) his head. He looked over his shoulder at the bottle, which had smashed into the refrigerator leaving a small dent, and he said, "Good arm you've got, Fullmetal."

After taking a moment to calm himself he snapped, "I'll go grocery shopping with you. But only because you're paying."

"Good call."

IIIII

_What the hell was I thinking, going out in public with this man?_ thought Edward.

"I have milk at home."

"Yes, but you need more milk. You're a growing boy."

"I'll grow on my own, thank you very much."

"And how is that working out for you?" questioned Roy lowly, just loud enough for Edward to hear.

"Put. Back. The. Damn. Milk."

"Don't have an aneurysm or anything," snickered Roy. He truthfully had so much fun poking fun at the young man that it was hard to stop. Sometimes he lied to himself and told himself that he was doing it to bring Ed out of his depressed stupor, but really he was doing it for entertainment purposes.

"I should have came alone," mumbled Edward angrily. He scratched at his cast, which was itchy with healing. "Is this damn thing going to itch forever?"

"Actions have consequences Fullmetal. You should have thought about the itching before you hurt yourself," said Roy matter-of-factly as he checked out the price differences between the offbrand peanut butter and the mainbrand peanut butter. He chose the mainbrand, guessing quality was better than anything.

"I wasn't exactly thinking clearly, sorry," sarcastically he replied.

"What were you thinking about, out of curiousity?"

Edward lowered his voice, "Do we really have to talk about it here?"

"Be vague enough and no one will pay you any attention. If you start acting like you have something to hide then people will start to look at you strangely," said Roy sensibly.

"Well it just so happens that I don't want to talk about it," grumbled Ed. He stuffed his automail arm in his pocket and swung his broken arm at his side in a gesture of discomfort. "I still haven't forgiven you for breaking into my bank account."

Roy sighed and set down the deli he was looking at. "For the last time, I didn't break into anything."

"You slutted your way in. Got it."

"Use proper English, Fullmetal. 'Slutted' isn't a word."

It was Edward's turn to sigh. "I'm really reconsidering this whole deal. Stop being such an ass."

"I'm only helping you," was Roy's only reply.

In a sense this was true. He wouldn't be here, buying food for Edward if he wasn't trying to help. He wouldn't have checked his bank account if hadn't cared. Only it made Ed uneasy to admit these things because if the General did care, that would mean Ed couldn't hate him any more, and caring back . . . caring back was much more painful than one could ever imagine. After all he had cared so much, invested so much, in Alphonse, and look what happened; In the blink of an eye he was gone. He already loved Winry, Izumi, and Aunt Pinako. How much more could he share before his heart shattered under the pressure?

And the General was taking time out of his busy schedule to visit him. Him, of all people. A rowdy, rebelling teenager who has too many problems to count.

"I know you are," admitted Ed lowly. "Just don't be an ass to me while you're doing it, okay?"

Roy smirked down at him. "Sure thing, short stack." Before he could gauge said short stuff's reaction he picked up the bologna and said, "This is on sale. I hope you like bologna because we're getting a lot of it."

"Bologna is fine." Edward peered over the counter and saw the frozen salmon being brought out. It almost made his mouth water right on the spot. He bit his lower lip, wondering if he should ask for it. The General was nice but he was already doing so much for him that it would be overkill to ask for more. No, he decided, he wouldn't ask.

"We can get it."

"Huh?"

"The salmon. You're eyeing it like it's a woman."

"You have a one track mind," muttered Ed, scratching at his cast. "I hate this damn thing."

"You'll have it for a few weeks so you better become used to it," advised Roy. He turned his attention to the deli/fish woman and said, "We'll take two of the salmon. So, Fullmetal, how does salmon sound for dinner?"

"I can't really cook," bashfully admitted the blonde. He ran his nails underneath the part where his fingers exited the cast and sighed in relief. That felt _sooo_ good.

"You're in luck. I can."

"Let's hope so. I don't want you to mess up my salmon."

"Oh my _no_, not your_ precious _salmon," drawled Roy, sardonically smiling.

"All I'm saying is that you better know what you're doing," said Edward.

Still smiling he replied, "Oh you'll succumb to my masterful cooking skills soon enough."

IIIII

"So have you slept in your new bed at all or are you still sleeping on the couch?" asked Roy, trying to make polite dinner conversation so the loud gobbling noises coming from Ed's side of the table weren't the only thing permeating the air.

"It's a good bed," said Edward between chomping down on the salmon. He wasn't going to admit it aloud that Roy had done a superb job with the fish but he had, in fact, done a superb job with the fish. "I just prefer the couch. Autumn is making good use of the bed though, if that makes any difference to you."

"Yes. The cat using it for her own personal space makes me very happy," sarcastically responded Roy. "It wouldn't kill you to get some sleep."

Edward glanced up from his food for a moment and looked as though he had something profound to say, but stopped himself. Instead of speaking he dug back into his food with renewed vigor. Roy could venture a guess that what was keeping him from sleeping in the bed was that it was comfortable, giving him a good chance at sleep, which also meant he could dream. Dreaming for Edward, it seems, has taken a turn for the worst and is now become something to avoid at all costs. Roy could understand how he felt. After the Ishbalan war, he wanted nothing to do with sleep. It only brought back the traumatic things he'd seen . . . and done.

"You know . . . " Roy began, setting down his fork. "I understand how you feel."

"Don't start with this," warned Edward. "Nothing good starts with that 'I understand how you feel' bull crap."

"No. Really. I do. I'm a dog of the military, Fullmetal. I've done a lot of things I'm ashamed of and wish I could take back. I used to have nightmares frequently, enough of them to make me become an insomniac by sheer force of will. I was a mess. It wasn't until I realized that nightmares are part of the process, and they will eventually fade after some time, that I began to feel better."

"Nice speech, Mustang, but I don't think we're in the same boat."

"We are more than you know," said Roy.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Edward chomped down on his last chunk of salmon with a satisfied smack of his lips.

"I used to be in the same position you are. Lonely, scared, not knowing what in the hell to do. I had no where to turn to but luckily, I had Hughes." Roy got silent for a moment, remembering his fallen comrade. "But I found my meaning in life. You just have to find yours. Just because you lost Al doesn't mean it doesn't have a purpose anymore."

Edward gently set down his fork and there was a far off look in his eyes as he recalled how Alphonse had been his entire world. There had been no obstacle he couldn't cross, nothing he wouldn't be willing to give, all for his little brother. Now the little brother is dead. Does that mean Edward's world goes along with him? Does he have to find a new world to revolve around, or does he need to be his own world?

"Aren't you the one always telling people that they have a strong pair of legs, so get up and use them?"

"Yes but--"

"It applies to you too. It's just harder to swallow because you don't want to budge an inch. Depression has that effect on you."

"You talk too much." Edward dumped the milk Roy had poured for him down the sink and set his dirty dishes in the sink.

"I'm glad we could have an adult conversation without resorting to calling eachother names."

"Frankly, I'm surprised you could go thirty minutes without making a joke about my height."

"Or lack thereof," said Mustang under his breath.

Edward held up a fist. "You wanna fight, old man? I'd gladly smash a fist into your face!"

"I wouldn't be too worried about that. Even standing on your tip-toes you couldn't reach me," said Mustang teasingly as he also put his dirty dishes in the sink.

"Are you leaving soon or what?" the blonde demanded to know.

"I do have duties to attend to," grudgingly admitted Roy. "If I left, would you be all right?"

For a second, Edward considered saying no. He considered it because he knew he was a mess on the inside, and despite his best efforts he was still self-injuring. He should tell the General what he had done that morning but it would only result in a fight. And today had been too fun (not that you would catch him admitting to that) to ruin it with a serious fight over something so stupid. Not to mention he was enjoying the General's company even if they did argue for three fourth's of the day.

No, it'd be far better to play it cool and act like everything is okay.

"I'm fine. I don't need a babysitter."

Roy smiled sadly, as though he knew what thoughts were running through Edward's head. After petting Autumn he said, "Take care of yourself, Fullmetal. And remember what I said about calling me or Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, itching at his cast.

With that Roy Mustang left the apartment.

And, Edward had to acknowledge, the apartment seemed a lot more dreary without him.

IIIII

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	6. Chapter 6

IIIII

_Chapter Six: One Hell of A Trip_

IIIII

_There's only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that's your own self - Aldous Huxley_

IIIII

"I want to visit Al's grave tomorrow."

"Hm?" Roy looked up from his plate of spaghetti to see Edward mulling over what he said. He swallowed what was in his mouth and said, "I think that's noble of you. Why tomorrow though? Is it an anniversary?"

Edward looked down at his half-eaten plate of food, twirling some noodles loosely around his fork. "I haven't visited his grave in eight months now. It's shameful."

_That tone in his voice. He really hates himself for not going_, thought Roy. The military officer let out a large sigh.

"It's not like you were out partying and ignoring it. You were depressed and didn't want to go anywhere."

Reasoning, though, did not seem to make a difference. An angered look stayed on Fullmetal's face throughout the rest of dinner, and the mood didn't look like it was going to lighten up, no matter how many times Roy poked and prodded. He only got grunts or one word answers in response. It wasn't much fun to stick around but he knew that if he left that Edward would only become more depressed.

"Am I allowed to go out with you on your excursion?"

Edward thought this over. Their shopping trip the previous two weeks ago had taught him that going out with the General wasn't exactly full of merriment. But, despite this, he didn't like the idea of going to Al's grave alone. Winry flashed in his mind, but he didn't want to depress her with dragging her into his misery. It was a scenario much too dreary too imagine. So, against better judgment, he nodded.

"Good because I would have gone anyway. I want to pay my respects too," said Roy.

" . . . He would've liked that," Edward muttered, a soft expression coming across his face.

"So, Fullmetal, how's the self-harm going? Are you able to contain yourself?"

So far Edward has been able to build and build on this lie and keep it steady. He figures that Roy won't go so far as to actually check him for bruises, so as long as he keeps saying he hasn't done anything he should be okay. Or as 'okay' as someone who self-injures can be. Ed knows he needs to stop this habit but he finds it so damn hard to break. If he could only numb his emotional pain some other way, then he would be all set. Except there's no healthy way that he knows of that can numb someone so totally the way hurting yourself does.

Though, sometimes, Edward has to wonder if Mustang can see through his act. Something about the way the man looks at him after he automatically says, "I'm fine" tells him that he doesn't integrally believe him. So this time when he says, "I'm fine" he gets the same dubious look from those black eyes.

"If you say so," said Mustang. "I'm trusting you completely with taking care of your own body. You're an adult so I'm going to treat you like one. If I find out you've been lying to me I'll be forced to treat you like a child and take action."

"Let's face it, you can't force me to do anything anyway." Edward picked more at his food, not really interested in eating anymore.

"I'm sure I could. Or, at the very least, Hawkeye could."

"That's not fair. I can't fight a girl!"

"Believe me, you wouldn't want to fight that particular girl either. Which is why you would listen to me."

Edward stabbed his fork into his food. "I'm _not_ doing anything that you order me to. You can't _make_ me do anything, Mustang."

"Well someone's feeling specially rebellious today." Roy grinned at this.

"I don't like being told what to do, or threatened, so back the fuck off." Edward got out of his chair and put his dish in the sink. Roy was used to doing the dishes now since Ed had the handicap of the cast.

"What put you in this mood today? Nightmare?" He asked conversationally.

"Wouldn't you like to know," He sneered.

"Actually yes. Yes, I would like to know. But you're being stubborn at the moment so I guess I'm not going to get any further with you."

"If you must know I'm pissed off because I have this cast on, I have you bothering me, and if you haven't noticed, my life is going downhill."

"I thought it was getting better," confessed Roy. "And stop with this whole 'I don't like you visiting me' shtick. It's pathetic."

"I don't like you visiting me. You get on my nerves and you--" _You force me to go outside, force me not to think about Al, not to grieve like I should. Every moment of every day should go towards the mistake I made . . ._

"Excuse me for being concerned for you," scoffed Roy. "I'm not here to be your enemy. I'm not even here to be your buddy, because that would cloud my judgment. I'm solely here to make sure you're all right."

"So . . . how're Hawkeye and everyone else?" asked Edward, trying to get the subject away from him.

"They're doing fine. Hawkeye wants to visit you--"

"No."

"That's what I told her. Don't worry, I'm not going to burden you with two people bugging you about your state of mind." Roy finished off his dinner and started on the dishes. There was a fair amount so it would take him a while. He sighed, and added, "She really worries about you."

"Tell her she doesn't have to. I can take care of myself," he grumbled.

"I'm well aware of that. Atleast, I put trust in you. I don't know if it's well placed but I trust you."

_Yeah, well, trust is meant to be broken_, thought Ed as he sat back down at the kitchen table. He scratched Autumn under the chin as he watched the other man do his chores.

"This is the moment where you say--" Mustang immediately changed his tone to a falsetto "--'Don't worry, General Bastard, you sure can trust me'."

"I'll agree to the General Bastard part," murmured Ed.

"So you're saying I can't trust you? Now Fullmetal, that's not very becoming."

"I'm saying that I take fine care of myself and I don't need a babysitter."

"Have you ever considered looking at this from a different point of view?" inquired Mustang. "That maybe you could see this as a friend helping a friend? I'm not a babysitter. I don't even like kids, much less want to baby sit them."

"I'm not a kid!" snapped Ed.

"Never said you were," said Roy. "All I'm saying is maybe you could view this as a friend helping a friend sort of gesture. Believe it or not, I've been where you've been. It may have been for a different set of reasons but I have been there and look where I am now. I'm happy, I'm healthy. You can make it through this, Fullmetal. You just have to find the _want_ to do so."

Ed huffed, "Who says I don't want to get better?"

"Actions speak louder than words. And so far your actions say you're so depressed you think you actually deserve to be hurting. That you think you don't deserve a moment of happiness. I've seen you smile, Fullmetal, and then afterwards you frown so deeply it's as if you're trying to make up for that millisecond of happiness."

"Since when I have you been keeping track of my smiles?" asked Ed, a weird look on his face.

Roy laughed lowly. "Well they're just so damn attractive--"

"Don't even finish that sentence or you'll have an automail foot shoved five feet down your throat."

A permanent grin was attached to Roy's face now. "Anyway, I had a friend who helped me out of my depression. Maybe it's time I do the same for you."

_I'm guessing he's talking about Hughes_, thought Edward warmly. The thought of the man was enough to bring a smile to his face.

"I appreciate the thought but . . . "

"But what? What do you have to lose?"

_Control_, was Edward's first thought. _I like my control. I love it, even though I lose control all of the time._

"Keep that in mind, Fullmetal. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain." Roy finished the last dish and wiped off any excess junk on his pants. "And just so you know we may be taking a trip to Ivorsins next month to help investigate some murders."

"Ah," said Ed without the least bit of interest.

"I'd be fine if you were to accompany me."

Edward quirked a brow. "Really? But I'm not even in the military anymore. And I'm no use to the military without my alchemy."

"You're still a brilliant martial artists, right? We could use someone like that on our team. You could be our unofficial mascot," suggested Roy.

"I'm nobody's 'mascot'," grumpily said the teen.

"So be it. Just know that the invitation is out there. I invited you for three reasons; we could genuinely use your help. You could get out more. And my team is constantly bugging me about visiting you so I might as well bring you to them."

"So getting out more equals solving a murder? Sounds kind of like a big jump," Ed pointed out.

Mustang picked his coat off of the back of the chair and put it on. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he said, "I'm merely offering. It's give or take."

_I want to keep an eye on you too, Fullmetal, we'd all worry too much if you were on your own_, Roy thought, _so just say yes. Just say yes already._

But instead of saying this he acted nonchalantly. He couldn't give away the fact that he was doing this out of selfish reasons too. It would only put Ed off and impel him more not to follow him to Ivorsins. If he didn't go Roy wasn't quite sure what he would do. God only knows how long he would be away and he could imagine Ed deteriorating severely without him. It may be egotistical of him to think this way but it was only the truth. If he were away Ed had no one to depend on, which he desperately needed at the moment. Edward was just too bull headed to realize this.

"I'll think about it," said Ed. "It may be fun to get out of this town. I haven't left in ages. Well, not including the trip to Resembool tomorrow."

"He's buried next to your mother, I presume," Roy said. He had made it to the funeral but not the burial.

"Yeah. So, you leaving or what?"

"I tend to linger, don't I?" chuckled Roy. "Well I'll be off. Take care, Fullmetal, and remember about--"

"Calling you or Hawkeye. Yeah, yeah."

"I'll be sure to inform them of my two day absence. You realize I'm using two of my precious off days just to tag along with you to Resembool, right? You owe me," reminded Mustang.

"I owe you nothing. You're doing this of your own free will," Ed shot back.

"Point taken."

IIIII

_His grave. You're visiting his grave today._

Squeeze.

_You put him in that grave._

Punch.

_You evil, horrible, despicable, poor excuse for an older brother._

Slam.

_How dare you steal his life away from him twice._

Hit.

_You'll never be able to atone for this sin._

Pant. Punch. Slam. Hit.

Cry.

IIIII

Edward had recovered by the time Roy showed up early in the morning. He was all smiles, pretending as though his leg wasn't throbbing horribly with each step. He had his bags packed and had phoned Winry ahead of time to warn her of their visit.

"Are you sure she won't mind me staying there? After all she never did fully forgive me for what I've done," said Roy solemnly.

"I think she realizes that you're genuinely sorry. Believe me, neither of us would be even speaking to you if we thought you didn't regret what you did."

This put Roy at ease. Slightly. He was just so nervous around the blonde teenage girl that he didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to plead for her forgiveness, and another part wanted to do the impossible and give her her parents back. But he came across as apathetic in front of her since he never let much of his emotions show. He's been good at this ever since he was a child; show as little emotion as possible and you'll just glide through life calm and composed. Some people took it the wrong way, thinking he didn't care at all for anything, but he does. He cares for many people, he just has a hard time showing it.

Roy sighed. He wasn't about to delve into the subject of his emotions or he would get lost in them. He focused on getting Edward's luggage to fit in with his (hey, a man needs a large suitcase, even if it's for an overnight trip). Then the driver drove them towards the train station. On the way, though, Roy couldn't help but notice Edward gasp in pain when they hit a bump in the road and Ed rose in the air a couple inches (the surprised look on his face was priceless) and dropped back down. He had then held his leg as though it seriously pained him. It was only for a split second, since he seemed to realize he did this and then he let go. It was enough to give Roy suspicions.

Roy paid the driver, made Ed carry both of their suitcases ("What am I? Your friggin mule?" "Remember, you said it, not me."), and they got onto the train, taking seats way in the back.

"I haven't been to Resembool since I came after you to bring you back for questioning."

"You say that like it's a fond memory," said Edward bitterly.

Roy shrugged and was silent until the train started moving. He noticed there weren't many people on the train. Even if it was the early morning train, you would think there would be more people on it. After taking notice of this he then said, "I hope you left extra food and water for your kitten."

"Of course I did! What kind of owner do you take me for?"

"Just double checking."

"Great time to double check, genius, while we're on the train," scoffed Ed.

"See if I try to make polite conversation with you again."

"Fine. You want to talk? Let's talk about something_ I _like."

"Like what? What is your hobby, killing milkmen?"

"My hobby is _reading_, you bastard," said Ed, grinding his teeth in frustration.

"You shouldn't do that. It's bad for your teeth."

"Buzz off, Mustang! I can't believe I have to sit with you for the next four hours!"

Roy smirked. "You're as entertaining as ever, Fullmetal."

The two ended up playing a card game, which Edward played very well until his sleeve slipped and revealed he was cheating with extra cards. The very same trick he used on Al to win every game.

"You cheater, I can't believe you!" scolded Mustang. He shook a finger at Edward saying, "You should have higher morals than that--"

"You cheater!"

"Huh?"

Mustang looked down to see that through moving his wrist just so jostled the cards in his own sleeve, making them tumble out as he lectured Edward.

"I win by default!" proclaimed Edward.

"But we both cheated," droned Mustang. He was a sore loser, by far.

"Shutup."

After that little debacle there wasn't much to do except make small talk and stare out the window. Roy also paid close attention to the small alchemists every move. How he caressed his leg absentmindedly, as if trying to soothe some sort of pain. His suspicion quickly grew into worry. Was he hurting his leg too? Was all of his trust being betrayed? He had to admit that it stung, thinking he was being lied to.

If Edward was still hurting himself he wasn't as well as he appeared. It was something Roy didn't want to admit but he had to face it if that was the truth. He refused to sugar coat anything in this situation. The facts are facts. Edward is a self-injurer who, quite possibly, needs psychiatric help (that he would never allow himself to receive in a million years because, yes, he really is that stubborn).

Well, nothing's going to get done just sitting here thinking about it, thought Mustang. Might as well confront it head on.

"Fullmetal, I want you to tell me the entire truth about this, because if you don't I'll have to do something about it," said Mustang. "Are you still hurting yourself?"

"Of course not. Haven't we had this discussion before?"

"How did you manage to quit?"

This question caught Ed off guard. At first he went "errr" but was able form a sentence a moment later, "Through sheer will power . . . I guess."

"You . . . guess? You broke a deeply ingrained habit through sheer will power 'you . . . guess'?"

"Shutup, Mustang! All that counts is that I stopped, okay?"

Roy was not entirely convinced of Edward's words. They could be a sack of lies for all he knew. From what Hawkeye had told him, it was a harsh habit, ninety nine percent of the people who do it needing professional help to stop. Was Edward in the one percent?

_No. He's not. He's lying to me._

Then Mustang did something he would probably regret for the rest of his life, but if he were to get the truth out of Edward, he had to do it.

He grabbed Edward by his calf and squeezed as hard as he could. Enough to get a yelp out of him. Not a yelp out of surprise, but one out of suffering. If the person didn't have bruises they may, at the most, have flinched. But if said person did have bruises on their leg they would have Edward's reaction.

"What the hell was that for!" growled Edward. "You can't grope me on a train, you sick bastard!"

The few passengers that were on the train began to look in morbid curiosity at the two.

"You're the one making a scene, Fullmetal, not me."

"Of course I am! You groped my leg!"

"It wasn't a grope, it was a squeeze. And believe you me, I didn't do it for pleasure. I did it because you're a damn liar," sneered Mustang, keeping his voice low so as not to draw any more attention to themselves. "How could you lie to me, Fullmetal? I trusted you with your own safety and you betrayed my trust. Now what am I supposed to do, let you keep on injuring? Atleast man up to the truth."

"Okay. You want the truth? The truth is that you can't stop me. The truth is that no matter what you do, I'll do whatever the hell I want, and there's not a thing you can do about it."

"I could have you sent to a mental institution. I could have you found mentally unfit to take care of yourself and have you sent away in just one phone call," threatened Mustang with fervor. Being lied to was one of the things he hated most.

"You wouldn't. You're bluffing."

"I wouldn't lie to you," he said, deathly serious.

"I am _not_ mentally unfit and you know it," said Edward, hanging onto his last shred of tranquillity by a thread. "You make that phone call and you can say goodbye to ever seeing me again."

Mustang crossed his arms. "If it means your safety I'm willing to risk our friendship."

"How can you be so calm about this? This is my _life_ you're taking over," said Edward, beseeching him to see reason.

"I'm not going to give into my emotions. As much as I want to believe you can take care of yourself, Fullmetal, I can't let you destroy yourself just because I want to remain blind. Don't you--Don't you see? Don't you know . . . " Mustang stopped himself because his emotions were, in fact, bubbling to the surface. He coughed uncomfortably into his hand and composed himself before saying, "I . . . I care too much about you to let you go down this route. That's all I have to say. Take is as you will, but I refuse to stand by and let my friend self-destruct."

Edward's tight grip on his pants loosened and his gaze lowered. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered, not even bothering to return the mans sentiments.

Roy sighed. Maybe he'd gone to far, he didn't know. All he did know is Fullmetal would be angered with him for a very, very long time over this.

IIIII

They arrived at Winry's home around noon. This time it was Roy carrying the bags. Edward was in a sour mood and walked atleast five feet ahead of Mustang, just to keep his distance away from the General. When they walked up to the house Winry came running out and hugged Edward, who didn't return the hug, merely patting her on the back awkwardly.

"What's wrong, Ed?" she asked.

"I got groped by this bastard," said Edward, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the raven-haired man.

"For the last time I did not grope you!"

IIIII

**I debated and debated but I really had to throw in that last little scene. Ed is such a sour puss and I thought it was funny. It made me laugh, anyway.**

**Hopefully this is up to par. Don't be too harsh!**

**I also want to thank all of my reviewers. You keep me going when I have no confidence. And wow, forty nine reviews already? I feel so honored! Thank you, thank you!**


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